


The Bizarre Toxic Death of Gloria Ramirez

by icantwritegood



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: AAAAAAA, AU, Emotional Manipulation, Is that a kink, Mentions of drugs, Paranoia, Rivals, Toxic Relationship, big conspiracy theory!!, competitive sex type thing???, dubious medical knowledge, i like writing this shit, kind of a mr and mrs smyth type vibe, kind of the villain but maybe not?, my last fic was more cutesy ok, shane is very morally grey in this, the usual stuff, they may (or may not) try to straight up murder each other at some points, yes it's gonna be shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: A local woman's death kicks into action a strange cat-and-mouse game between the director of the hospital and the detective leading the investigation, both of which are entirely unaware as to the wolf waiting outside the door.





	1. A Break In The Monotony

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i'm writing this one again (i had a fic called this ages ago but i deleted it but im back baby)

Being a Medical Director is... stressful. Keeping everyone in line, keeping protocols in place, regulations followed, it can get a bit crazy. People tend to think organization is key, but Shane knew otherwise. Organization was important, yes. But improvisation was the real key. The master key. You can't improvise? Then you're going to crack within a week, if you're lucky. He'd been running the place for about a year, and he'd faced things he thought he'd never have to. People get aggressive, upset, sometimes just loopy. First, hit 'em with the charm. If that doesn't work, punch them in the face with icy coolness. Pretty simple, on paper, but Shane had mastered it pretty swiftly.

Until this unexplained, wackadoo illness of a local woman. Gloria Ramirez, thirty-one years old, dying right in the hospital. But this wasn't exactly new. No, what was new was the inexplicable cause of her current state. And the twenty-three medical staff she'd decided to infect with... whatever she had. Twenty-three people out of the thirty-seven looking after her? Astounding. And bad, bad news.

"We're gonna have the media riding our asses over this," muttered Shane, standing with his arms folded across his chest. The parking lot swarmed with patients, all of whom had had to be evacuated outside due to Ramirez's illness spreading like disgusting wildfire. "Tell everyone to just stay quiet for now, stay low. Until we know what the hell is going on."

Sara nodded, her eyes wide and nervous as she looked around the dark parking lot, lit up with flashing medical equipment, gleaming off metal bed-frames. "What do you think's wrong with her?"

"We'll be using the past tense soon enough," replied Shane, a hand resting over his mouth as he watched the chaos continue to unfold around them. "And I have no fucking idea what she has. Some bullshit." He glanced at the few staff still throwing up outside the hospital doors, sighing heavily. "Can you go and get them to bag their scrubs? That shit needs to go in the trash, pronto. But don't get too close."

She was already hurrying off, jumper pulled up over her nose. "Yep, I won't!"

"Hey, boss." One of the nurses paused beside him, arms laden with various tubes, a mask still covering his mouth and nose. "We've got guests. Just thought you should know."

"Hm?" Shane half-turned to where he was looking, closing his eyes with a loud sigh. "Right. Right, I'll take care of them."

The cop car parked a safe distance away from the pop-up hospital, three people stepping out, doors slamming closed. The news vans were beginning to gather in the background, a cluster of profit-obsessed vultures. Shane faced it all with his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath.

"Here we go."

* * *

"Look at this shit, guys." Kelsey came to a slow halt, looking understandably wary. "What happens if this is the outbreak of the zombie apocalypse? We're just gonna walk right into it?"

"Don't be dumb." Helen continued walking, pulling a pair of plastic gloves on as she went. "You guys do your thing, and I'll do mine."

"Where will we meet up?"

"Back at the car in twenty?" Ryan could already feel a headache coming on from the noise of the parking lot, the complaining patients, the irritated staff. "Or maybe ten."

"Yeah, hello." An arm stuck out in front of them, stopping the three of them in their tracks. "This is actually off-limits right now. Call back later."

The three cops turned their heads to look up at the human blockade, who was wearing a smile of the most insincere kind on his face. His eyes were already moving away, narrowing at the media personnel getting themselves ready to rumble.

"Sorry, we're actually law enforcement," said Helen with a friendly smile, tapping the badge on her belt. "I'm a medical detective, and-"

"Call back," he repeated, throwing her a cool look. "Later."

"I-"

"Who are you?" asked Ryan just as coolly, before Helen could continue trying to be amicable. "You don't look like a doctor."

He was right. The guy didn't look like the rest of the staff. He wore a light blue shirt, trousers, a lanyard hanging around his collar, ID shining in the light from the cars in the lot. He didn't have a fabric mask on, he didn't have anything covering the thick hair on his head. He didn't even wear gloves. What he did wear was a tight smile, like an adult would give to a toddler that was really beginning to get on their nerves. 

"I'm the Medical Director," he said, not offering a hand. He wasn't offered one either. "And I'm very, very busy. So if you wouldn't mind-"

"You don't look very busy," commented Ryan, raising an eyebrow at him. "Certainly not too busy to step aside and let us do our jobs."

"We can wait five minutes," interjected Helen, giving him a subtle nudge in the side. "If that's okay."

The director was still staring at Ryan, eyes locked on his, clearly very unimpressed with the attitude being thrown back in his face. "It would've been okay. But I've suddenly gotten so overwhelmingly busy that you all have to get off the property until I decide you can come in."

"We just-" began Kelsey, giving a bright smile.

"That's not how this works," said Ryan over her, hands on his hips to pull back his jacket and show his badge. He saw the director's eyes flicker down to it, an amused smile appearing on his face. "An inexplicable outbreak of some shit or other is happening here, and under _your_ jurisdiction, it seems. So that's not a good start."

"Ryan, come on, dude."

"I'm just saying!"

"How about this." The director didn't take his eyes from Ryan's as he gestured vaguely at Kelsey and Helen. "Those two can head on in and have a great ol' time. A real day at the park. You, on the other hand, can sit your ass out here until you learn some basic manners."

Ryan shook his head. "No. That's not how this is gonna go down."

"Oh?"

"You're gonna let me in," said Ryan lightly. "Because keeping me from doing my job is obstruction of the law, which is a crime in itself. You ever heard of that?"

The taller man threw sidelong looks at the other two cops, before bringing his eyes back to look at Ryan. Icy wasn't the word. "I think I may have heard it once or twice."

"Great!" Ryan pushed at Kelsey to walk, giving the director a nice big smile. "Thanks for your cooperation. Just great stuff, really."

"I didn't catch your name." The man suddenly stuck out a hand for Ryan to take, which he did. The grip was just a bit too tight for comfort. "Brian?"

"Ryan," he replied, not reacting to the hard grip on his hand, apart from to match it. "And you are?"

"Shane Madej," he said dryly, giving his hand an experimental wiggle, raising an eyebrow. "Quite a grip you've got there."

"Yeah." He ignored Helen's tug on his sleeve, watching the taller man's face curiously. "I actually think we should ask you a few questions. Seeing as you're meant to be in charge."

A curly-headed woman passed by him, going right up to Shane, muttering something apparently displeasing to him. Too low for Ryan to catch. Which was something he didn't particularly like. 

"Your questions are going to have to wait," said Shane after the woman had delivered her message and moved on. "I have to, uh, attend to something."

Ryan tapped his badge. "It can wait."

Shane flashed his ID, already stepping around him. "No it can't."

 _Well, touché_. Ryan watched the man hurry off towards the entrance to the hospital, weaving through the hospital beds and IV drips like Pacman through a maze, gobbling up important whispers and mutters from the staff as he went. He turned to face Kelsey and Helen, who were watching him with very unimpressed looks on their faces. 

He looked from one to the other with wide eyes. "What?"

Kelsey rolled her eyes, moving into the crowd, a tad overwhelmed by the madness pressing in around them. "Control your testosterone, you idiot." 

"I- What?!"

"Roll back the attitude!"

" _He_ was giving the attitude," insisted Ryan, the two of them following Helen towards the pale, sickly staff sitting on the low wall nearby. "I wasn't going to just let him _do_ that. I mean, would you?"

"In return for some cooperation? Yeah, I would've."

"We got cooperation," shrugged Ryan, adjusting his cap against the glare from a lamp being rolled on past. "So it's all good!"

"Some very reluctant cooperation." Kelsey shook her head in disapproval. "Be chill, Ryan. Like that bear you like."

"Paddington does no harm, but he takes no bullshit," said Ryan firmly, looking up at the softly-glowing windows dotting the towering hospital walls. "So there."

* * *

"She's fucking dead, Shane."

"Fuck." He pressed his lips together in a firm line as he thought, pacing back and forth in front of the room in which Ramirez's now-corpse lay. "Fuck, okay. Let's see that syringe again?"

"Here." She passed the blood-filled syringe over, watching his face for a reaction. "I mean, that's not normal."

"Unless blood is supposed to contain little floating chunks," he said quietly, flicking the syringe to get the particles in question to float around. "What the hell _are_ they?"

"No idea."

He sighed wearily, passing it back. "Right. Get everyone out. Leave her body in there, it's not safe to touch. I think the Department are sending over some guys to have a look around. Jesus, we shouldn't even be in here."

They began moving off down the corridor, towards the reception. Sara glanced at him, seeing the worried frown on his face.

"You got the media to back off?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"They'll stay back since those damn cops are hanging around," he replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Which is the one blessing they bring. Alongside a whole lot of pain in the ass."

"I didn't know you were so anti-cop, Shane."

"Oh, you know how it is." He paused at the reception desk, Sara moving behind it, letting her give out the quick announcement over the intercom. To whoever was even still left in the place. "Some people can just... grind your gears, y'know?"

Sara paused for a long moment. "We're gonna be in some shit over this, aren't we?" 

"A hell of a lot. Yes."

"I mean, it must be pretty big if the cops are already down here."

A pause. "Yeah."

She raised a suggestive eyebrow. "And how are we gonna get out of it?"

"You just- No." He gave her a flat look. "I did that once. I'm not doing it again."

"But it worked!" She shrugged helplessly. "And you know they're going to ask one of us to do it!"

"I'm not going to- to whore myself out, Rubin!" He gestured vaguely around the large reception, his other hand on his hip. "This is a hospital. Not a damn brothel."

"Look, I'd do it!" she replied with a shrug. "But I didn't set off any _sparks_ out there. Unlike you."

He frowned slightly, head tilted to one side. "Meaning?"

"I saw you," she grinned, pointing at him over the computer on the reception desk. "I could _smell_ it. The tension."

"It's all in your mind, Sara," he replied dismissively, with a shake of his head. "That little dick was just pissing me off."

She reached over, picking up his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Grr. I'm Shane and I want to assert my dominance via aggressive hand shakes and prolonged eye contact."

He gave her a wry smile, not mentioning the fact that he hadn't quite succeeded in asserting anything in the first place. "Whatever. I wasn't going to let him just walk all over me, thinking he can use that badge like a free pass to a fucking theme park."

"I'm Shane and _I'm_ in charge," she continued with mock-anger, hands on her hips in a parody of his stance. "You hear that? _I'm_ the boss. _Don't_ fuck with me. I'll- Oh damn, they're coming in."

Shane half-turned to follow her gaze, seeing the blonde cop stroll in through the main doors, followed by her irritating partner. The medical detective was nowhere to be seen. He waited for them to approach, a look on his face like he would really prefer to see them going the opposite way. Alas, they did not.

"What's happening?" asked the woman with raised eyebrows. "Is everyone being brought back inside?"

"No, not yet," answered Sara, before Shane could strike with whatever snide comment was clearly on the tip of his tongue. "You shouldn't actually be in here. There's guys from the Department of Health and Human Services coming up to check out what could be happening. Could be really contagious."

"Don't waste your breath, Sara," said Shane coolly. "These two seem to love going where they're not wanted."

"It's part of the job," replied the blonde cop with a shrug. "So... Yeah."

"I don't know." The other one, Ryan, spoke up with a small smile. "I mean, this guy just makes me feel so... welcome. And his personality? So inviting."

"You don't have to talk as if I'm not here," said Shane, leaning back against the reception desk, arms folded. "I won't bite."

"Yeah," said Ryan dryly. "You're too busy barking."

Shane gave a sharp exhale, the sound bordering between amused and irritated. "You know, I always find short guys are like little dogs. So full of attitude, yap yap yapping away, but at the end of the day I could just punt you right out the window."

"Oh yeah?"

"Like a particularly irritating football."

"I see."

"I think that's enough," said the guy's partner, giving Ryan a meaningful look. "Maybe you can wait outside."

"That's a good idea," said Shane with a smile, straightening up. "I'll walk him out."

"I don't need to be escorted out, thanks," said Ryan flatly, pausing as his partner gave him a sharp nudge in the side. He rolled his eyes. " _Fine_. Fine, whatever."

They moved off in silence, hearing the two women beginning to chat almost instantly. Ryan threw a scowl up at him as they walked, getting an easy smile in return.

"Tell me something," said Shane as they reached the doors, which slid open before them. "Do most cops have to be babysat by their partners? Or is it just a select few?"

"Are you really in charge here?" They came to a halt between the doors, still watching each other with open disdain. "I always assumed you'd have to, well, not be an asshole in order to have your staff do what you say."

"It's a balance thing, detective." 

"Ah, is it."

"Oh, yes. On one hand, you have to inspire loyalty." He suddenly reached over Ryan's shoulder to catch hold of the door sliding shut, the shorter man's head tilting back slightly with the movement, automatically placing a hand on Shane's chest to hold him away. He quickly dropped the hand, narrowing his eyes at the half-smile on the taller man's face. "But on the other, you have to crush any resistance. Stomp it out before it can take off."

"Sounds like a bit of a dictatorship to me." He stepped outside, hands shoved in his pockets to prevent any other accidental touching. "I'll probably see you around. Doctor."

"Please. Call me Supreme Leader."

Ryan gritted his teeth to stop himself from smiling at this, heading off towards Helen, who was still zipping around the place, trying to make a single puzzle from the random pieces littered around. Yeah, there was always one. There was always one jerk on a case who seemed to think being uncooperative was just a bit of fun, who wanted to act like the bad boys in the television shows. He'd have to shut this one down, quickly. Yet he had a niggling feeling that this wasn't going to be so simple. He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the man's tall silhouette still in the doorway, hands on his hips. As if making sure Ryan wasn't going to come back. 

"What are you looking at?"

He tore his gaze away from the door, down to Helen. "Hm?"

"Where's Kelsey?" she asked, peeling off her gloves as she spoke. "I'm ready to head back when you guys are. I just saw some guys arrive in full-on hazmat suits, man. This could be way more serious than we thought."

"Yeah." He threw one final glance at the man standing in the doorway. "Yeah. It could be."

Helen grinned once she saw what he was looking at, an eyebrow raised. "You like him?"

"No way." He gave her a dry look. "The exact opposite, actually."

"You know what Kelsey's gonna ask you to do, right."

"She already hinted," he said flatly. "And I'm not doing it. Not even if she pays me."

* * *

"Well _I_ can’t do it this time!” she said, keeping her eyes on the road. It was a nice morning. Sunny. Bright. Deceiving. "I did it last time."

Ryan groaned loudly, slumping back in the car seat. “I don’t  _want_ to. He’s an asshole.”

“Look, they have to know something,” persisted Kelsey, stopping at the red light. “And I was talking to that doctor, and she hinted that he swings more one way than the other.  _Your_ way, Ryan.”

He folded his arms moodily across his chest, scowling out the window. “This is bullshit.”

“Look, I  _always_ do the seducing,” she shrugged, turning to look at him. “Sometimes it’s fun. And yes, sometimes I do actually have sex with the person, which isn't exactly encouraged-"

"Yeah. Because it could get you fired."

"-but now it’s your turn!"

“But- But-” He sighed heavily, still scowling. “It’s going to be hard to fucking, uh, seduce someone who actively dislikes me. God, I hate even saying it.”

“Ryan, come on.” She threw him a flat look. “You don’t need to be nice to him. You’re hot.”

“I  _like_ to be nice, Kelsey! I- What is it?” He followed her wide eyes, his jaw clenching as he saw who she was looking at. “Oh for God’s sake.”

“Go! Go, while he’s out of the hospital!” She unlocked the car doors, reaching over, ignoring his muttered curses as she mussed up his hair, adjusted his shirt collar. “Flash the smile, and put those arms to good use, yeah? Don’t be shy!”

“You owe me,” he grumbled, pushing open the car door. “You owe me big time.”

“It’s for justice, Ryan!”

"Give me cash for the coffee."

"What?!"

"Gimme the money for the coffee! Do at least that much!"

"God- Fine! Whatever! Just go!"

* * *

It was a sunny morning. The type of morning that Shane didn't usually mind having to go to work on. It just made everyone a bit chirpier, staff and patients alike. It made the whole day just go smoother. But he was soon to be reminded of the fact that, sometimes, rocky starts just can't be avoided, no matter how sunny the morning in question. He had just bought his coffee, eyes glued to his phone as he headed for the door to the cafe. Because of this distraction, he almost walked straight into him. The door shook slightly as they both attempted to push it open, their gazes lifting from their respective phones to stare at each other through the glass. After a long few seconds, Shane moved first, opening the door and stepping back.

“Well, if it isn’t Mister Important Detective Man.” Shane held the door open for him, returning the dry smile. “Do you usually stalk your persons of interest?”

“This is the closest coffee shop to the hospital, Doctor Head-Up-Your-Ass.”

“Ooh, you’re a sassy one.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, stepping out of the way of the door as it swung closed. “You’d know all about that.”

“Mm.” Shane gave him a lofty once-over, coffee halfway to his mouth. “On your break already, are you?”

Ryan arched an eyebrow. “I don't think you need to know anything I'm doing."

“But  _you_  need to know what  _I'm_  doing. And since I have a very busy day ahead of me, I think you should jump at the opportunity to ask me a few questions right now.” He grinned at the withering look he got, in an attempt to hide the fact that he wasn't exactly crazy about the idea either. But Sara had been right. They _had_ asked him. “Come on, Officer Jerk-Off. Surely you can spend five minutes in my pleasant company.”

“Pleasant?”

“When I feel like it.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, looking up at him with a flat look on his face. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Try not to sound too enthusiastic.”

They wound up seated outside in the sun, under a large umbrella, situated in a more hidden area. They were both well aware that being seen by the media chatting together wouldn’t be so happily received by their respective employers, but they were doing what they thought had to be done. So it was okay. Right?

“I prefer to see the person’s eyes when I’m questioning them,” said Ryan, folding his arms on the hot metal of the table as he leaned forwards. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“But UV rays are so  _bad_  for you,” replied Shane in mock-sincerity, half-heartedly removing them, folding the arms down with two sharp 'clicks'. “And being a man involved in medicine, I can’t walk around not caring about health.”

“But your hospital can.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at this, using a lazy sip of coffee to stall his response. “Straight in with it, hm?”

Ryan shrugged, not taking his eyes from the other man’s face as he took a drink from his own coffee. “Well what were you expecting?”

“Some icebreakers, perhaps.” He leaned forwards, distractedly tracing a finger around the rim of his cup as he did so. “Perhaps I’ll start. What’s the police doing getting so involved in a medical case?”

Ryan grinned at this, arching an eyebrow. “And you call that an icebreaker?”

“Well, it's an interesting topic for the both of us, don't you think?”

Ryan shook his head, resting his chin on his hand. "No. I don't agree."

"Can't say I'm shocked."

"How about a real icebreaker," said Ryan as he leaned forwards, trying to act as if he didn't feel quite so disgusted at the question he was about to ask. "Are you single?"

Shane simply stared at him for a long moment, fingers resting lightly over his mouth, like he was trying to figure out a complicated math problem. "If I were to answer that... it would be deemed highly unprofessional.”

“Well this isn’t a formal questioning,” replied Ryan with a shrug. “So it's all off the books, really.”

“Which also means I don’t need to answer anything.” Shane cracked a smile, pointing at him with the hand holding his coffee. “Checkmate, Chief Inspector Douchebag.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Superintendent Jackass?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Six out of ten.”

“Ooh, harsh.”

“So what’s your deal?” Ryan looked him up and down, taking a leisurely sip of coffee as he did so. “You don't look like you're ready for a day of performing surgery.”

“Sorry I’m not skipping down the street in a white lab coat, with a stethoscope hanging from my pocket. A syringe in either hand. Riding my IV drip, doing sweet kick-flips.” He grinned at the flat look on the other man’s face. “I’m the Medical Director. I'm not involved in that stuff.”

“I’m not too sure of the role you play, then.”

“I keep the hospital running smoothly,” he replied, flippantly using the folded-up sunglasses to gesture as he spoke. “Make sure patients are satisfied, regulations are in check, there’s enough medicines and general stock in the place. I don’t necessarily perform surgery, or anything along the lines.”

“So you’re a jumped-up secretary?”

He smiled wryly at this. “As much as you’re a jumped-up traffic warden.”

Ryan sat back in his seat, inhaling long and loud. “Touché.”

“Yeah."

“And the Ramirez woman.” Ryan gestured at him with the coffee. “Anything of interest to tell me about that mess?”

Shane gave him a long look, lifting his arm as if to check his watch, his gaze not even flickering to it. “Oh no. Look at the time. Wild.”

“Are you going to answer the question?” said Ryan, raising an eyebrow.

“How about a compromise.”

Ryan watched in silence as the man took a pen from his pocket, scribbling a mobile number down on the napkin from his coffee before pushing it towards him. Ryan picked it up, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I answer your question,” said Shane with a half-smile. “Over a drink.”

Ryan pressed his lips together in a firm line, but he didn’t put down the napkin. “That’s, uh, extremely inappropriate.”

“Isn’t it?” Shane got to his feet, keeping his voice low as he leaned over the table, their eyes locked. “Just give me a call sometime, detective. And I’ll answer all your questions.”

Ryan stayed where he was as the taller man strolled away down the street, sunglasses back in place. He tapped a finger on the napkin, feeling like that had been just a bit  _too_ easy. Suspiciously easy. He decided to stay and finish his drink; it was warm out, and if Kelsey was going to basically be pimping him out, he might as well get whatever benefits he could from it. She was right, unfortunately. Someone at the hospital must know something more about what happened to Gloria Ramirez. People don't just die from an unknown illness and almost take half a medical team with them. But that was also the difficult aspect about medical investigations; no one was really a suspect. A criminal. They couldn't just drag the staff in for questioning, not unless there was a hefty ton of evidence against them.

So he and Kelsey had turned to a more unorthodox way of getting such evidence, and tended to be very much successful. Most of the time. He had been a tiny bit more reluctant about it, feeling it to be just morally wrong. But, it wasn't strictly illegal. As long as they didn't actually seal the deal with the person in question. Which was going to be no problem this time, thought Ryan to himself. Absolutely no problem at all.


	2. Not Such An Easy Target

“Pop open another button, Ryan!”

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” He rolled his eyes as he did so, pressing his lips together in an unimpressed line. “I never say this stuff to you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied flippantly. “Because I know how to flaunt my shit, man. And no shaving.”

“But it’s already itchy,” he groaned, rubbing at the rough stubble along his jaw. “I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Look, when I’m doing this stuff, I always get my tits out,” she said, hands on her hips. “I do my makeup all nice. I wore heels and tight skirts for like, a week with that drug dealer guy! It’s your turn!”

“I know.” He sighed wearily, giving his chin a quick scratch. “I know. Fine.”

He glanced at the hospital, the looming structure, still so eerie even though it was such a nice day. Hospitals just weren't nice, really. Full of sadness, most of the time. Oh, and douchebag directors, in this case. 

"Look, maybe they're not even hiding anything," he suggested, mentally vomiting even at the thought of having to try and sweet-talk this son of a bitch. "Maybe they're just a normal hospital."

"Maybe. But most likely not." She gave him a meaningful look. "I mean, come on. You read what the staff said about Ramirez's body. 'Fruity garlic'? An oily sheen? And how many of the staff passed out or puked or passed out in their puke?"

He sighed. "A lot."

"A lot. And one of them is in intensive care, Ryan." 

"Okay, fine! They're hiding something." He pushed open the car door, hearing her doing the same. "What did Helen want us to get again? Blood samples?"

"Yeah." Kelsey popped her shades on, giving him a suave smile. "I'll take care of it."

"You get to do the fun stuff," he grumbled as they crossed the lot towards the entrance. "Have you even tried to have a five-minute conversation with this guy? He's an ass!"

"I don't know, I think he's pretty funny." She grinned at the flat look on his face. "Oh come on, Ryan. Do ya thang."

* * *

“Sara, stop it!” He slapped her hand away, spinning in his seat to face her. “What are you? My pimp?”

“It’s not messy enough!” she insisted.

“It’s fine,” he replied, half-heartedly running his fingers back through his hair, hoping she'd just leave if he showed even a tiny bit of enthusiasm. “Now, what about that?”

“Perfectly tousled.”

“Great,” he said flatly. “Now-”

“Tie, loosen it.”

Shane laid his head down on the table with a loud groan, feeling her begin to tug at the tie. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re meant to be seducing someone, Shane! Distracting him! And-” Her eyes flickered to the window, widening. “Oh, damn. He looks  _fine_.”

Shane sat upright, turning to glare out the window at the two cops crossing the parking lot. “Shit.”

“Tie. Open.”

He let her adjust his clothing, watching the cops cross the sunny lot towards the front of the building. “Fuck it anyway. Why does he have to be hot, Sara?"

"All the more initiative for you, right?"

"Look, I'll agree that he's physically very attractive to me. I said that yesterday." He raised a finger before she could try and act all smug. " _But_ , mentally? Emotionally? Probably not. And his personality? I hate it."

She rolled her eyes. "You're just exaggerating, Shane. You don't hate it."

"I'm pretty sure I do." 

"Just keep him off our backs, okay?" she said wearily. "That's all you have to do. I'll just chat with the other one, be all friendly."

"Yeah." He distractedly rubbed the back of his hand along his jaw, pensive, the almost-beard scratching his hand. "Yeah, I know."

Well, he hadn't even gotten up to go and find the guy before there was a loud knocking on his door. Shane glanced up, genuinely curious as to who would be looking for him so urgently. The hospital was only half-open, with the Ramirez woman's body still quarantined in a section of the building. So things weren't exactly as crazy as usual.

"Come in." He lazily sat back in his chair as the door opened, smiling at the man in the doorway. "Ah, detective. I'd say I'm pleasantly surprised, but I'm actually neither."

Ryan stayed in the doorway for a moment, like he wanted to either turn around and leave or cross the office and throw himself out the window. "Good morning to you too."

"What can I do you for?" asked Shane, absent-mindedly twirling a pen in his fingers as he slowly spun back-and-forth in his chair. "While I have the time."

"Oh, nothing really." Ryan wandered further into the office, glancing around the room with interest, even taking in the ceiling. "I was just having a look around."

"Nosy."

"Part of the job requirements." Ryan kept his arms folded across his chest, examining the book shelves. "Not a lot of medical books."

"I have a laptop, detective," he replied dryly. "On which I keep many interesting reads. I'm not one of those pretentious tools who uses medical encyclopedias as wallpaper."

Ryan spared him a sardonic smile. "Aren't you special."

Shane returned the smile. "I'm so glad you dropped around to delight me with your company. But I think you can go."

"I think I'll go when I feel like it."

"I'll have to admit, the attitude is very unprofessional." 

"Right back at you." Ryan heard the sharp laugh, meandering ever closer to the desk. "What types of reads would you keep on that laptop of yours?"

Shane was quiet for a moment. "Why do you want to know? You're a cop. It's not like you can read anyway."

"God, you're so funny." Ryan noticed the other man's eyes trailing down his body, a gesture that wasn't exactly hidden. A gesture that he wasn't particularly fond of. "Yeah, is it alright if I ask you _not_ to look at me like I'm a piece of meat."

“Oh, that wasn't my intention at all. You just reminded me of something." Shane wound his open tie around his hand, slowly, keeping his eyes on the detective as he flippantly pulled it off, the fabric sliding out from under his collar. “I forgot it was casual Friday.”

Ryan stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Time is an illusion, Ryan.” He kept the tie around his hand as he picked up the pen again, using it to point at him as he sat back in his chair. “Why are you here, anyway? Ramirez's cause of death was determined. Cardiac dysrhythmia. Because her kidneys conked out. Probably because of the cervical cancer. But I'm sure you knew all that."

Ryan kept his arms folded across his chest, raising an eyebrow as the other man almost distractedly slipped the pen he was holding into his mouth. “I do know all that, yeah. But some things just didn’t add up. Like how she almost took half a medical team with her.”

“Ah. That.” Shane continued lightly chewing on the pen, legs crossed in a figure four, seated on his chair with the air of a king on his throne. “Mm. Intriguing.”

“I know, right?” He wandered towards the desk, not taking his eyes from Shane’s mouth, where the pen still sat. “How long have you worked here?”

“Year or so.” He grinned at him, an eyebrow arched. “I would’ve thought you’d have done your research.”

“Maybe I’m just making sure you aren’t a liar.”

“Oh, I never lie. I'm a law-abiding citizen, detective.” He let his head tilt aside slightly at the last word, still smirking at him. “I’m all about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“And yet I still just don’t  _trust_  you.” Ryan circled the desk, slowly, nonchalantly, trailing a hand along it as he went. “I mean, you were around the night it all went down.”

Shane watched him with wary eyes, looking him up and down. “I have many different responsibilities here. I take care of what I can. But I can’t stop death, unfortunately.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Weird.” Ryan leaned back against the desk, arms folded, feeling the other man looking him over as he gazed pensively out the window. “Because her family seem to think it could’ve been the hospital conditions that caused her death.”

A silence. “Families grieve. Families mourn. They deny, they get irrational. Then they move on.” Shane’s voice sounded stiff, unimpressed. “The conditions here are perfectly fine, I’ll have you know. And I’m a tiny bit insulted that you’d suggest such a thing.”

“I have to take the family’s opinions into consideration.”

“Then consider them stupid,” said Shane flatly, finally getting a sharp scowl from Ryan. “And start considering some actual, credible opinions.”

Ryan stared down at him, jaw clenched. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask you not to patronize me so openly.”

“Well how about you don’t give me the opportunity.”

For a moment, they simply glowered at each other in silence. Ryan looked away first, thinking that perhaps showing your open dislike for a person may not be the most effective first step in seduction. He heard the other man let out a moody sigh, chair screeching as he got to his feet.

“Listen.” Shane unraveled the tie from around his hand, chucking it onto the desk. “I have a lot on my plate right now. I’ve got the Department riding my ass, I’ve got the media basically kicking down the door, and I’ve got the Ramirez family thinking I personally assassinated Gloria. I don’t need you coming in here, acting all coy, trying to see if I have some ulterior motive or some bullshit. So if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ryan kept his arms folded stiffly across his chest, trying to cool himself down even a little. Every single word this guy said was like a pin being lightly dragged along his bubble of self-control. So close to just popping. “I see. You’re busy.”

“Very.”

“But here’s the thing.” He pointed at himself, smiling stiffly. “I come first. Because I’m the law. The media, the Department, not even the family are more important. Yeah?”

Shane’s lip curled slightly in disdain, really wishing that the guy wouldn’t stand up for himself so much; it was irritatingly hot. “In general, yes, you’re the priority. Does that make you feel special, hm? Make you feel nice and fuzzy inside?”

“It makes me feel angry,” said Ryan heatedly, straightening up off the desk, just the teeniest bit intimidated by the other man’s imposing height. “Because most of the time, it’s dickheads like you that I have to deal with.”

“You ever think that maybe it’s you who’s the problem, then?”

Ryan turned his head away in an attempt to calm himself down, letting a wry smile play across his mouth. “You know what? How about I take you up on that offer of a drink.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at this, hands on his hips. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He picked up a pen off the desk, writing his number on a piece of paper with sharp movements. “Unfortunately, I shoved  _your_  number as far down into the nearest trash can as possible. So here.” He pushed the piece of paper into the taller man’s chest, Shane’s hand moving up to catch it. “Have a ball.”

“How about I don’t even consider putting your number anywhere near my phone,” said Shane sharply, scrunching it up in his hand, seeing the shorter man’s jaw clenching as he did so. “And I just ask you out right now.”

“Fine.”

“The Brickwood. At nine.”

“I can’t fucking wait.” Ryan threw a glare over his shoulder as he headed for the door, still fuming. “And you-”

“Close the door on your way out,” interrupted Shane, sitting back down in his chair with a whole lot of attitude, head resting on his hand. “And please,  _do_ hesitate to pop around.”

Ryan didn’t reply, slamming the door shut after him. He took a deep breath through his nose as he stood in the corridor, eyes closed. God, this  _sucked_. The guy was a total asshole, with his smug smile, and his cocky attitude, and his sharp wit. And his good hair. And the way his voice trailed off to an almost-purr at the end of some sentences, like he wasn’t even bothered to finish them. Ryan shook himself out of these unwelcome thoughts, moving off down the corridor. Empty hospitals were unsettling. Creepy. Or maybe he'd just watched too many horror movies. Really, he was relieved to see Kelsey appear at the end of the corridor.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Well?”

“I feel like I just agreed to start a damn fight club,” muttered Ryan, realizing his fists were still clenched by his sides. They paused as the curly-haired doctor passed by, heading towards Shane's office. “But whatever.”

“Well you better go to that fight club,” she replied, the two of them heading for the car. “And you better win. Because there's something up here. One of the staff told Helen that there was a syringe with Ramirez's blood in it, and it had little floating bits in it, but when I asked the doctor where it was, she said it was gone. Someone must've thrown it out, she said."

Ryan shook his head at this. "Nah. No way. Last night was chaotic, but that director douche knew where everyone and everything was."

"Exactly." She nudged him. "So you're going for a lovely romantic evening together?"

"Don't." He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a pounding headache. "I'm already hating it."

* * *

“Yes, he said yes.” Shane sat with his feet kicked up on the table, arms folded across his chest, a moody student in the principal’s office.“You owe me for this. You really do. The guy is a complete moron.”

“So you’ve said.”

“He literally called me a dickhead. To my face.”

“And I’m sure you were entirely cooperative right from the beginning.” Sara raised an eyebrow at his sly smile. “Yeah. I thought so.”

“It’s called flirting, Sara. Which is exactly what you asked me to do!”

“If someone has been  _flirted_  with,” she replied sternly. “They shouldn’t look like they want to  _strangle_  someone.”

Shane shrugged, entirely unconcerned. “Well, you know, sometimes shit just goes down, baby. That’s just how the cookie crumbles.”

“Where’s the charm, Shane? Make him laugh, make him like you!” She leaned on the desk, chin resting in her hands. “I think he seems okay. Have you seen that smile?”

“From a distance,” he replied dryly. “If you find him so ‘okay’, why don’t  _you_  go on this stupid date.”

“I haven’t even talked to the guy, that’s why.”

"Neither have I," said Shane with a roll of his eyes. "Unless constant bitching counts as talking."

"You're half the bitching, Shane. I know you are."

"I'm giving back what I'm getting, Sara," he insisted, gesturing at the crumpled up piece of paper on the desk. "And look. I got his number. See?"

"Then why is it scrunched up like that?"

"Because watch." He picked it up, chucking it into the trash can beside them with a neat flick of his hand. "Kobe!"

She sighed wearily, getting up to fish it back out. "Just keep it. Just in case."

"Yeah," he muttered, slouching back in his chair. "I don't think I'll be needing it. Ever. At all."

* * *

Well, Ryan would never have expected them to be one of the last ones at the bar. Neither of them would have. But the flirting was smooth and fast, almost effortless, as they danced around the topic of Gloria Ramirez's untimely death. Both wanted to know what the other had to say about it, but neither wanted to accidentally let something slip. So they resorted to barbed comments and subtle hints as to why the other was so interested in their respective situations. Usually, Ryan would stumble, stutter, blush, the works. But he was beginning to realize it was actually pretty easy to flirt with someone you, well,  _don’t_  like. Because at the end of the day, you don’t really care what they think. You don’t care how it ends up. A bit like splashing random colors on a canvas; might be messy, but hey, could be a masterpiece. Maybe you’ll only find out once it’s pinned up against a wall in some empty room. Who knows? If it wasn't for Kelsey guilting him into doing this, he wouldn't have come at all. And really, he wasn't sure why the other guy had agreed to come along. There was an underlying current of genuine dislike between them, that neither were exactly trying to hide. The snarky comments and heated glares were frequent, setting off the type of sparks that weren't exactly romantic. Less fireworks in the sky, more grinding steel.

“And is there anything you _really_ hate about your job?” Shane grinned at him, head resting in his hand, looking a tiny bit heavy with alcohol. "Anything at all. The more specific, the better."

 _Yeah. You_. “Not really. Nothing worth saying, anyway.”

“Well I’ll tell you what I hate about mine,” said Shane slowly, an eyebrow raised. “Nosy people. Coming around, stirring up shit, sticking their nose in just a bit too far. Might get it cut off, if they're not careful." He paused, just to let the message get through. "It’s very irritating to me.”

Ryan lifted his gaze to give him a flat look, unimpressed. “And it happens a lot, does it?”

“Oh no, not at all.” He gave a dry smile. “Just every now and then. Something comes up. Something that could be kept very quiet. And these people just rock up, and cause a hell of a lot of unnecessary trouble.”

“And what kind of trouble would you deem unnecessary. In your expert opinion.”

“Take a wild guess.”

Ryan laughed, a sharp sound. “You know what? I just remembered something I hate about my job.”

Shane took a leisurely sip from his drink. “Oh, please tell.”

“People who think they have a choice when it comes to cooperating,” said Ryan very meaningfully indeed, seeing the knowing smile on the other man's face. “As if this is all just a bunch of fun and games. When it’s not. It’s about finding justice, and doing the right thing.”

“And you believe in justice, do you?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, justice is a nice idea on paper,” shrugged Shane, chin resting on his hand. “But really, it’s basically unattainable. Nobody is always going to be happy with what they deserve. They’ll want more. Or, they’ll want less. And the people who refuse to acknowledge that will just get fucked over, right?”

Ryan watched him in silence for a moment. “And which one are you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want more, or do you want less?”

Shane held his gaze, drink hovering just in front of his mouth as he spoke. “More. Always more.” He smiled wryly. "And you're the typed who gets fucked. Hard."

Ryan's grip tightened on his drink, focusing entirely on not letting himself flush. "Oh, you think?"

"Mm." 

"Well you think wrong." 

Shane smiled a lazy smile. "I highly doubt that."

Ryan stared at him for a moment, wondering if he'd ever met someone so downright infuriating in his life. "What's your problem here, huh? Why are you the way you are?"

"I don't reveal childhood traumas until the second date." He grinned. "But if you're really curious, I've been known to mention them during sex." He suddenly let out a panting moan, gripping the edge of the bar, eyes squeezed closed. "Ugh, _fuck_ , Freudian theory!"

"Oh my God, you're-" Ryan rubbed a weary hand down his face, sighing heavily. "Jesus Christ. You're insufferable."

"Well then let's talk about you." Shane gave him a quick once-over, still smiling at his own wit. "Why are _you_ an asshole?"

"I'm not," he replied flatly. "Not in general."

"Just with me," said Shane with a wink.

"Just with you."

"Stop. You'll make me feel special."

Ryan put down his now-empty glass, surprised at the fact that although they'd now gone for their reluctant drink many times over, neither of them were getting up to leave. Not quite yet. Maybe this was going better than he thought. Maybe that was total bullshit. For a moment, they just watched each other, faces equally curious. Wary, perhaps. Ryan turned in his seat to face the other man more directly, keeping one arm resting on the bar. He casually moved his legs as he did so, sitting so that they were spread, one of the other man's knees between them. 

"You know," he began, quietly, keeping his eyes on Shane's. "I really shouldn't be here. It doesn't exactly look good."

"It doesn't look good for either of us." Shane raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, very much aware of the legs pressing in either side of his. "Yet here we are."

A silence. "Here we are."

"Then how about we just make this quick." Shane kept his voice low, too quiet for anyone else to hear, leaning forwards as he ran a hand up Ryan's thigh. Slowly. Lazily. "We get out of here. We go back to mine. And we get rid of this, uh, _tension_." He smiled at the dry look on the other man's face. "It would make for easier cooperation in the future, don't you think?"

The alarms that went off in Ryan's head could've deafened him. He couldn't actually have sex with this guy. That would be way out of line. He'd be fired quicker than he could blink. Ryan let his gaze drop to his glass, lips pressed together as he pretended to actually consider the offer.

"I'm gonna have to refuse," he said, finally looking back up at him, seeing the amused smile on his face. "But we can still be friends."

Shane sat back, watching him, draping one arm over the back of his seat. "And you want to be friends, do you?"

Ryan shrugged. "It would help with our, what did you call it, cooperation?"

"That's what everyone calls it." Shane gave him an almost withering smile, an eyebrow raised. The ensuing silence was heavy, almost humid. "We're not going to be friends."

Ryan held his gaze, quiet for a moment. "Pity."

"Is it?" Shane shrugged nonchalantly, still smiling. "Just because we won't be friends, doesn't mean we can't have some fun."

Ryan didn't reply, holding the other man's gaze. "I think I should be leaving. I have an early start."

 _Oh, you're not skipping away that easy, pal._ Shane got to his feet with him, shrugging on his coat. "I'll walk you out."

"I don't need to be-"

"I insist." 

Ryan took a deep breath, turning away. "Fine."

They wandered to a halt just outside. The street was pretty quiet, seeing as it was so late on a weekday. The only place still open seemed to be the bar, the low music just audible. Shane looked down at him, and for a split second, Ryan felt it. Not exactly fear, but apprehension. This guy was up to something. But what? 

"I suppose I should say thanks for such a, uh, delightful evening," said Ryan dryly, hands in his pockets.

"It's only the right thing to do, don't you think?" Shane shrugged, keeping his eyes on the shorter man's. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Mornings, afternoons, evenings." He paused, distractedly biting on his lip as his eyes wandered down to the shorter man's mouth. "Maybe even nights."

"Mm. Maybe." Ryan didn't move. Not yet. "You know, it almost seems as if you're trying to seduce me here. Which would be pretty frowned upon, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, I'm not seducing you," replied the taller man with the slightest smile. “Because if I was going to seduce someone, I’d start with something a bit more… physical.”

Ryan’s grin slipped as he felt his shirt collar move, Shane’s fingers slipping underneath it, running lightly along his collarbone. “Right.”

“It’s an art, in a way,” continued Shane in a distracted tone, his eyes following his fingers as he let them slip behind Ryan’s neck, thumb trailing up his throat. “It’s about building the suspense. The anticipation.”

Ryan didn’t take his eyes from the taller man’s face as the fingers continued tracing circles on his skin, swiftly joined by the other hand, full-on caressing him now. Softly, but firmly. He mentally cursed himself as he let his head be tilted back, his lips parting to let out a quiet, shaky breath. 

“You have to tease a little,” said Shane in a low voice, looking straight down into his eyes, feeling the racing pulse under his hands. “Get them all excited.”

Ryan swallowed, refusing to break eye contact, his heart fluttering as a thumb brushed lightly across his lips. 

“And then when they really, really want it,” murmured Shane, leaning down, still holding the shorter man’s face. “You just…” He let his breath ghost across Ryan’s mouth, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “You just… stop.”

He dropped his hands at the last word, seeing Ryan basically deflate, his eyes closing.  _Yeah, how about that, you little fuck_. He began wandering backwards, hands in his coat pockets, the epitome of nonchalance. 

“Leave them wanting more. Leave them  _craving_  more.” He smirked at the light flush that had appeared across Ryan’s cheeks. “But never give anything. Not before they give you something.”

Ryan finally met his gaze again, staying where he was. “And you’re a master at all this, are you?”

He shrugged. “I suppose you could say I’m undefeated in battle, yes.”

“Right.” This was... unexpected. Ryan let himself scowl as the taller man turned away, sauntering off down the street. "Goodnight, Shane."

"Goodnight, Ryan," came the light reply, the man not even sparing a glance back over his shoulder.

 _Son of a bitch_. Ryan took his phone from his pocket, dialing Kelsey. She'd want to know what happened. Even though nothing really did happen. The guy had avoided any questions about Ramirez and the missing syringe, as expertly as a politician would. Flash a smile, say something witty, and suddenly they were onto an entirely new subject. Maybe Ryan had grown a tiny bit rusty. Yeah, that must be it. Because really, what could Shane even be up to? Ryan put the phone to his ear, glancing back over his shoulder just in time to catch the taller man look away, already talking to someone on his own phone. Hm. He could be up to a lot, Ryan supposed. A hell of a lot.


	3. Make Your Move

Things were not going as smoothly as planned. The Board of Directors were holding a gun to his head over this shit, even though it was _their_ fault at the end of the day. It was _their_ fault she fucking died, not his. He just had to deal with the consequences, as per usual. Now, Shane didn't exactly approve of what they were doing. But he understood why it needed to be done. Sometimes sacrifices were needed, if the potential result could save millions of lives. He just didn't approve of the unwillingness of the sacrifices. Because technically, if a sacrifice is done without the knowledge of the person in question, then it's just plain murder, right? He sat at his desk, biting at his thumb, a frown on his face as he thought over the whole dilemma. Thinking about it sometimes made him feel physically ill. But Ramirez had been dying anyway, so... so... He buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily, forcefully. So nothing. It was wrong. But was it? In the grand scheme of things? He got to his feet at the sound of knocking on his window, heading over to look out.

"God damnit, guys." He pushed the window up, staring at the three men standing outside. "What the hell are you doing here? Go join the rest of the news idiots."

"But you need to know this!" Andrew pushed Steven aside, handing the letter up to Shane with urgency. "It's from Livermore. The receptionist. He thinks you could find it useful."

"Yeah, I- Is that stupid camera off?" asked Shane, throwing a flat look at Adam in the background. "Stop waving it around, you idiot."

"Oh, no, it's off." He dropped it back down, adjusting his glasses. "Habit."

Shane paused for a long moment, thoughtful. "Look, there's these two cops throwing their weight around here, alright? A blonde woman and a cartoon gopher. They're driving me up the wall." _Especially one of them_. 

Andrew grinned. "And what do you want us to do?"

"I want you to be careful," said Shane meaningfully. "As in, don't come knocking on my window to have a little chat."

"Wait, are you talking about Ryan and Kelsey?" Steven smiled brightly. "I think they're cool! Ryan helps us out like, a shit ton."

Shane closed his eyes, sighing wearily. "Of course he does."

"Have you talked to them yet? They're really friendly."

"Yeah. Yeah, I've talked to them." He was quiet for a moment. "Hey, if you're talking to, uh, Ryan, just try and get him to back off a bit. Just remind him that some stuff is better off left alone. If he sticks his nose in too far, he might get it cut off, you know what I'm saying?"

Steven and Andrew shared a quick look, before turning their eyes back up to him. "Yeah, man." "Of course."

Shane placed a hand on the window above him, a signal that this conversation was now over. "If you need to get any other stuff to me, just hand it into reception, alright? And thanks."

He watched them hurry off towards the road, where their news van sat in plain view of literally anyone passing. God, they could be stupid. But they were invaluable too. They'd saved his ass multiple times; spreading false rumors to other news companies, blending in with any gathered crowds to throw the public off the scent, and various other morally dubious activities. All for a small fee, and priority information of what had actually gone down. Shane sat back down at his desk, opening up the letter. Yeah, when he'd signed up for this job, he hadn't expected it to be quite so... shady. He was just a Medical Director, for God's sake, but he had to run this place like it was a damn spy agency. Because if any of the hospitals involved in this rigmarole got found out, then they were all going down in flames. And it was a hell of a lot of hospitals involved. A global scale, really. 

_Head of Livermore says he could've found why Ramirez croaked. Thought you'd want to know. - TJ_

Shane closed over the letter, slipping it into the bottom drawer of his desk, the keys to which he kept attached to his belt almost constantly. He couldn't wait to get rid of all the shit in that drawer; Ramirez's blood samples, the records of who came and went that night, and now this potentially incriminating letter. It was just building up, day-by-day. But he could handle it. He could always handle it.

The head of Livermore laboratory was a young guy. Smart, but easily influenced, easily manipulated. Which is exactly why he got the job in the first place. Shane ran the district, and if he needed someone to do something for him, he needed little to no resistance. And right now, he needed the guy to do something very much important.

"Yeah, Sara, I'll be back in half an hour," he said, passing by her on his way out the door. "I've got to head to Livermore. Something came up."

"Oh, man, I was just about to look for you," she replied, looking quite unsettled indeed. "Cupido ran his stupid mouth to those cops. Said that Gloria didn't die of natural causes."

"Fucking hell, Cupido." He checked his watch, moving on. "Yeah, I'll actually be back in an hour, then. I'll sort it out."

"You always do!"

* * *

Ryan squinted through the window, killing the engine. "Where's he going?"

"I don't know, but he looks pretty frazzled, right?" Kelsey turned in her seat to look at Helen. "That's the guy, Helen. Now tell Ryan he's stupid not to try and tap that."

"Ryan, you're stupid not to tap that." She watched the man glance at them over his shoulder, a slight frown appearing on his face. "His hair is so bouncy. Floofy."

Ryan stayed silent, watching Shane watching them. "Maybe I should follow him."

"No, Ryan. That's too glaringly obvious." Kelsey got out on her side, waving at Shane across the lot. He flippantly raised a hand in response, not even really a wave. "He's got a bit of an attitude, right? That date must've been fun."

"You have no idea," muttered Ryan, closing the car door behind him. "Let's just get on with this, yeah?"

Helen suddenly waved over his head at a passing news van. "Hey, look! It's Steven and Andrew!"

It was indeed. The two of them waved enthusiastically back, Adam nowhere to be seen. Probably stored away in the back of the van, with the rest of the camera equipment. That had to breach some road safety issues, but the boys were too valuable to risk losing to bother bringing it up. The van pulled over beside them, Steven rolling down the window to pop his head out.

"Hey, guys! What's up?"

"Going in to check out those patients that were infected with Gloria's thingy," said Kelsey, using her hand to cover her eyes from the sun as she looked up at them. Ryan was still watching Shane, eyes narrowed. "See if any of them have something useful to say about that night."

"Yo, Ryan." Steven leaned out the window, tapping the man's shoulder to get his attention. "What're you looking at, hm?"

"Uh, nothing." He dragged his eyes away from Shane, looking up at Steven with a raised eyebrow. "What are you guys doing hanging around? Nothing illegal, I hope."

"No way, Ryan." Andrew gave him a dry smile. "We're still in your good books, right?"

"Of course!" He could see Shane out of the corner of his eye, finally getting into his car. 

"But hey, man." Steven fixed him with a meaningful stare. "Be careful with all this stuff. Stick your nose in too far, and you might get it cut off, yeah?"

Ryan blinked at this, a slight frown appearing on his face. "...Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

Kelsey grinned at the reporters. "Very scary, guys. We're terrified."

Ryan was the only one who didn't laugh. He was too busy thinking. Thinking about why that phrase made him feel so uneasy. Even as the van rumbled off down the road, he stayed where he was, staring at nothing in particular. He'd heard those words before. He could almost hear them, in that lazy drawl, just about loud enough for him to hear over the music of the bar. 

"Ryan?" Helen gave him a poke, jerking him from his thoughts. "You coming?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'll follow you in two minutes." 

They watched him head off down the road the van had come up from, his eyes glued to the building. Whatever he was doing, it was probably nothing. He tended to get a bit too into some cases, too involved. Everything was a possibility to him. So they left him to his solo investigation, knowing he'd be in with a crazy theory or other in about ten minutes.

Ryan moved along beside the low bushes that sprouted along the side of the building. A few short trees, lots of leaves. The bottom floor windows were efficiently out of sight, especially the few at the end of the building. Ryan wandered closer to them, pushing the branches aside, seeing the leafy haven that lay within. And the single window, the most hidden one on the ground floor. He thought about moving closer. Having a look at whatever room was inside. Even though he was pretty certain about whose it was. He'd only been in it the day before.

"What are you doing."

Ryan jumped at the sharp sentence, spinning to face its owner. "I- Uh-"

"Spit it out, pal." Shane stood only a few feet away, looking very ticked off indeed. "What the fuck are you doing."

Ryan stared at him for a moment, wondering how he hadn't even heard the guy's car approach. "How about you ask that again. Nicer this time."

"How about you get the hell away from my office," he replied in a dangerously low voice.

"So it _is_ your office." Ryan stepped away, turning to face him directly, hands on his hips. "It's pretty hidden. You don't like the sun?"

The taller man was quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "It's nosy people I don't like. As I told you last night."

Ryan didn't move. Neither did Shane. Both were waiting for the other to leave. Neither were leaving.

"You know, I was at the coroner's office," began Ryan, slowly, watching the other man's face for any reaction. "And your name didn't get a very good reception there. Especially from Dan Cupido."

Shane raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Well, everyone makes a few enemies in their lifetime."

"No." Ryan moved a bit closer, still watching the taller man's face. "He didn't seem to dislike you. He seemed scared of you."

"Mm. Did he."

Ryan stopped barely a foot away, eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Why could that be?"

"I don't know," replied Shane softly. "But maybe you should take a page from his book. Give it a read. Make sure you understand it very, _very_ clearly."

"Understand what?" asked Ryan, feeling a subtle chill up his spine. "Anything in particular I should feel so scared of?"

Shane cracked a smile, looking down at him from under heavy lids. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

"Right." Ryan watched the man saunter away, following him to the car. "What was it that you said Ramirez died of?"

Shane paused at his car, resting an arm on the roof as he gave Ryan a long look. "Cardiac dysrhythmia. I'm going to assume those words are too big for you, and tell you it's just an abnormal heartbeat. Got out of control a bit. Happens a lot in patients, but it's usually not that dangerous."

Ryan ignored the attempt at changing the subject. "Weird. Because Cupido was pretty clear that she died of unnatural causes." 

"Cupido doesn't know what he's talking about," replied Shane coolly. "But he'll know the facts soon enough."

"Is that where you're off to now, is it?" Ryan looked him up and down, standing by the bonnet, arms folded across his chest. "To deliver him some facts?"

Shane opened the car door, still holding his gaze. "I'll see you around. Detective."

"Yeah." Ryan stepped back as the engine started, swallowing at the dark look thrown at him as the car pulled away. "You will." 

* * *

Livermore National Laboratory was a sprawling mess of buildings, essentially its own town. The employees basically lived there. It was the cruelest sort of capitalism; here's restaurants, and shops, and everything else you need to make sure you have very little reason to ever leave this place! Enjoy your lifetime of thinking you've got it made until you realize you haven't stepped outside the grounds since you first arrived! Shane went straight to the main offices, passing by the lake. Yeah, it even had its own lake. Not that he had time to stop and feed the ducks. 

The head of Livermore sat at his desk like a student being scolded, making fleeting eye contact as he spoke. "Well, there was a lot of dimethyl sulfone in her blood, probably from the inflammatory gel she was using, which would also make her shiny and smell weird, and if it mixed with oxygen from the oxygen mask it could've caused crystals to form in her blood which there were, there were little crystals, pretty harmless but-"

"Yeah, I know. Keep going."

"Sorry. Yeah, uh, and the defibrillator could've broken it all down to dimethyl sulfate, which is very damaging to the heart and the liver and the kidneys, and it can cause paralysis, and delirium, and convulsions, and I don't know I just thought it fit. So... yeah."

Shane nodded slowly, still staring pensively out the window, arms folded across his chest. "And how certain are you that this could be it?"

“We haven’t quite got it down yet, um, we haven’t tested it yet. We-”

“I don’t want you to test it,” said Shane firmly, half-turning to look at him. “I want you to ring Cupido at the coroner’s office. And I want you to tell him about this theory of yours.”

“But we haven’t-”

"Is there a chance that it's not accurate?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, there is."

“Then don't test it," ordered Shane, moving towards the door, his phone already out. "Just tell Cupido, and tell him that I want him to run with it. I'll take care of the rest." 

He showed himself out, weaving his way back through the buildings towards the car lot. "Pick up pick up pick- Andrew? Yeah, it's Shane. No, everything's fine, I just need you to do me a favor. Can you start telling everyone that the whole infection thing has been figured out? Yeah, just direct them towards Livermore. Cupido did what?! What a fucking- Look, I've got to go. I'll head over there now. Thanks, Andrew. I owe you a hell of a lot. Oh, you know that? Okay."

He rolled his eyes as he hung up, allowing himself a moment to smile as he sat into the car. For a second there, he thought it was all unraveling. But he had it. He had it all sewn back up again, nice and neat. This would blow over all easy, and the Board would leave him alone. And he could start trying to forget the fact that was he was doing was borderline evil, and what he was protecting was most definitely illegal. 

* * *

Ryan smiled to himself as they headed back down to the reception, Kelsey and Helen right beside him, chatting excitedly.

"Six million?! That's insane. That's gonna blow the roof off this place!" Kelsey clapped Ryan on the shoulder, giving him a proud shake. "Nicely played, Bergara."

"See? I don't have to seduce anyone, right?" He smiled hopefully. "There's other ways to get information."

"Getting one of the nurses to sue this place for six million dollars isn't going to get us information," said Helen with a small shrug. "It'll just apply a fuck load of pressure."

Kelsey grinned at him. "You're trying to crack the guy, aren't you?"

He blinked innocently. "Hm?"

"You're going the nasty route," she said, poking him. "Playing dirty. And I love it, Ryan!"

He rolled his eyes, continuing on down the corridor towards the reception. Okay, maybe she was right. He didn't like how cool and collected Shane always was. How in control. It was hard to get information from someone who was so confident, from someone who seemed to even keep his facial expressions in check. And really, Ryan was annoyed not only at the director, but at himself. For last night. For letting the guy touch him, letting the guy play him like a cheap Kazoo. So he'd convinced Julie Gorchynski, a resident nurse, to sue the hospital for claiming that her illness was caused by mass hysteria. He even got one of the other nurses, Maureen Welch, in on it. It was great. And he couldn't wait to see Shane's face.

"Hey, hey, hi!"

The three of them turned at the sound of the voice, faces ranging from curious to wary. It was the curly-haired doctor, Sara, hurrying up the corridor after them. She almost skidded to a halt in front of them, hands on her hips, panting for breath. She must've quite literally ran. 

"Can we- Gorchynski just told me some very unsettling news," she managed to get out, adjusting her glasses with a raised eyebrow. "Something about suing somewhere. For a large amount of money."

Ryan shared a small smile with his two coworkers. "Oh, did you?"

She looked at the three of them, clearly panicked. "How about you three stay for a little chat?" _Until Shane can get here and sort this all out_.

Kelsey pouted thoughtfully, glancing at her two coworkers. "I guess we could stay for a quick coffee. What do you guys think?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Ryan with a pensive frown. "Got a lot to deal with right now, y'know?"

Sara swallowed, looking at them with wide eyes. "Please?"

Helen smiled. "Of course we will. Please ignore my two idiot coworkers. They like to think they're funny."

* * *

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you_. Shane wasn't even sure who he had on his mind as he screamed these words in his head, striding across the parking lot towards the hospital. No, screw that. He knew exactly who he was thinking of. _You son of a bitch_. _Ohhhh, you bitch_. He was going to kill the guy. He'd rather kill him than try to strike a deal with him, than plead with him for- for- for what? Mercy? Get down on his knees and beg? Please don't destroy everything he'd worked for, everything he'd earned? Shane realized he was breathing heavily, the few staff around scurrying out of his way as he made his way towards the break room, fists clenched. Sara had sent him a very urgent summary of what had gone down, and he was not a happy bunny. No, he was not. His fleeting feeling of relief had been cruelly snatched away. And he wanted it back.

"Hey, Shane." Sara appeared just as he reached the canteen doors, a gaggle of panicked-looking staff behind her. "Gorchynski is saying she still wants to go ahead with this. We're gonna be fucked, man! The medical detective, Helen, she's keeping her distracted for now, but it's Ryan you've got to convince."

"I'll sort it out," he muttered, able to see a certain detective over her shoulder, lounging at the table. It looked like he'd helped himself to the fridge, catching Shane's eye as he took a spoon of yogurt. "Just give me anything you guys are worried about, and I'll clean it up. C'mon, quick."

Ryan smiled at him from across the way before placing the spoon into his mouth, removing it at a speed much slower than necessary. Shane raised an eyebrow, half-listening to his staff's concerns, arms folded across his chest as he continued watching him out of the corner of his eye. He raised his head ever so slightly to get a better look as Ryan took another spoonful, turning it in his mouth, sliding it out between his lips at a leisurely speed. He could see Shane’s smile slipping, head moving a little bit further up to blatantly observe, chest rising as he took a deep breath. Ryan left the yogurt down, instead just casually placing the spoon back in his mouth, leaning forwards on the table. He didn’t take his eyes from the taller man’s as he began playing with it, almost as much as he was playing with Shane’s current emotions, running his tongue up the metal. He could see the few gathered doctors and nurses were now just debating among themselves, seemingly oblivious to the fact that their boss wasn't even pretending to listen anymore. He had Shane's attention. All of it. He could see the director’s breathing pick up, staring directly at him now, shirt sleeves bundled in his hands where he was gripping his arms. Kelsey stood by the fridge, giving him a subtle thumbs up. Encouraging his inappropriate acts. Just like the mom from  _Mean Girls_.

Shane was now completely disregarding the conversation he was meant to be part of. He was too busy trying to stop himself from openly gaping as the detective dipped a finger in the yogurt, slipping it into his mouth, drawing it out so slowly it had Shane’s heart beating so fast it might not have been beating at all.

He managed to utter a few words to his co-workers, already moving off. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Ryan sat back in his chair as the taller man approached, wiping some stray yogurt away from the corner of his lips, letting his thumb run along his bottom lip as if he didn’t even notice. Shane looked down at him, face unreadable.

“Stop,” he finally muttered, wanting to just grab the small carton and fling it across the room. And Ryan with it. “Alright?”

“Stop what?” Ryan smiled up at him, just a bit smug. “I’m just having a snack.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, watching. “Of course. Well, you missed a bit.”

“No I-”

Ryan was cut off as he felt Shane’s fingers rest under his chin, tilting his head back slightly as Shane ran a thumb down his lips. The thumb gently tugged at his bottom lip as it went before slipping right into his mouth, pressing down slightly on his tongue, Shane pulling him forwards just a tiny bit. Just enough to show that he could. Ryan sat in stunned silence, eyes wide, mouth remaining parted even as the hand slowly withdrew. A finger remained under his chin, a thumb on his lip, keeping his head tilted up. Keeping their eyes locked.

“Don’t try me,” said Shane quietly, seeing the hard glint in the shorter man’s eyes. “I’m only gonna warn you once.”

Ryan swallowed, sitting forwards only once Shane had let go of him and headed back to his staff. Realizing he’d been holding his breath, he let out a sharp exhale, placing down the spoon, pushing the yogurt aside. He’d suddenly lost his appetite. His appetite for food, anyway. He was craving something else entirely. Ryan glanced almost ashamedly at Kelsey, who stood with an alarmed look on her face, eyebrows raised in shock. Then he looked away, back at the table, placing his fingers against his cheek as he stared into nothing.  _Holy fuck._

“God damnit, Ryan.” Kelsey sat down across from him, his dazed expression remaining in place. “He just absolutely annihilated you.”

“I- I-”

“Yeah, you.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

“You sure you’re not slipping up?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “If it's too much, you can-"

“Yeah, I know. It’s under control.” He nodded firmly, half to reassure her, half to reassure himself. “It’s all good.”

It was not good. And it looked like it was about to get even worse. Shane was coming back, Sara at his side, a fiercely determined look on his face. Ryan got to his feet, eyes fixed on Shane's, swallowing. He had to keep his cool. _Stay cool, Ryan. Cool_.

"I know it was you two who convinced Gorchynski to take a very rash decision here," said Shane quietly, and although he was talking to the both of them, he had eyes only for one. "You're being very, uh, _cruel_. Seeing as Cupido is retracting his original, mistaken claim that Ramirez died of unnatural causes." He saw Ryan's jaw clench, lips pressed together in a firm line. "The Board will wipe the floor with her. Are you sure you want to encourage her to go through with this?"

Ryan held his gaze, seeing that both Sara and Kelsey were glancing between the two of them, eyes wide. "I think she's old enough to make her own decisions."

"She'll never get a job again," continued Shane, resting his hands on the table between them, leaning forwards to look him right in the eye. "And it'll be your fault."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "And who will make sure that she never gets a job again, hm?"

Shane was quiet for a long moment, busy mentally murdering the guy in various manners. "Me."

"Yeah. I thought as much."

Shane finally straightened up, taking a deep breath as he did so. "Alright. If you really want to go down this route, then I won't stop you."

"You wouldn't be able to stop me. You don't have the authority." Ryan smiled at the flicker of irritation across Shane's face. "Sorry to have to remind you."

Shane didn't reply as he thought, as he felt his mind already start plotting how to take this guy down. "One chance to back off. Take it now, or don't. It's up to you, little guy."

"I-"

"Think carefully, Ryan," said Shane quietly, intensely. "Think carefully before you answer."

Ryan ignored Kelsey's small shake of her head, too downright stubborn to back out now. "You can call me detective." He moved around the table, pausing beside Kelsey, still staring at the taller man. "And stay local, yeah? You're a very interesting man, Shane Madej."

Shane gave him a dry smile, tinged with irritation. "You can call me doctor. _Detective_."

Sara finally let herself breathe once the two cops had left, closing her eyes. "Holy shit, Shane. I genuinely thought you were going to start swinging."

"Nah, I have self-control, Sara," he replied with a small smirk, absent-mindedly running a hand back through his hair, the other in his pocket. "The question is, does he?"


	4. Gorchynski

There’s only two things you can truly feel passionately. One is love. The other is hate.

Ryan loved many thing with a passion; he was open like that. He liked to like people, and he liked it when people liked him back. He loved freely, he loved anything he thought could be worth loving. But he had never sincerely felt the other sort of passion. The hateful sort of passion. The sort that burned in your chest, that made your teeth hurt from gritting them so hard, that made your fists clench and your breath tremble. But he was feeling it. Almost daily. And he wasn’t particularly fond of it. It was a stressful emotion to have weighing you down, and it was growing heavier with every passing day. Every little conversation with Shane, every traded insult, it was difficult. 

Ryan, to tell the truth, was struggling. Despite his bubbly demeanor and bright smiles, he was beginning to notice himself crumbling. He’d only have to make eye contact with the director to get a sharp shock through his chest. He’d feel the gaze on him, watching him, and he’d turn to find Shane across the room; lounging in the doorway, relaxing at a desk, passing by on the street. Yes, the places alternated between the hospital, the police station, Livermore laboratory, the coroner's office, they seemed to be frequenting the same places quite a lot. But the look on Shane’s face never changed. The openly-loathing, blatantly-hungry glare. Like he wanted to take Ryan into an empty room and either beat the shit out of him or fuck the shit out of him. Whichever it was, Ryan was beginning to grow more and more curious. And more and more paranoid that he was always being watched. Which was ridiculous, because it was just one guy. But the feeling was still there, niggling at him. All day, and sometimes even at night.

"No, the  _original_  autopsy report," repeated Helen, trying to get Cupido's full attention. "From before you changed your mind."

"From before I realized she  _had_  just died from cardiac dysrhythmia," insisted Cupido, his small eyes darting between the three cops. "The report from Livermore came in. Have you heard about it? I have a copy of the science behind it. All perfectly viable."

Ryan glanced at his two coworkers, eyebrows raised. "Well, Steven did mention something about a cause of death being figured out. Might as well."

Helen took the report, starting to read through it as the others continued trying to get Cupido to reveal why he suddenly decided to flip-flop about the whole situation. Because really, jumping from unnatural cause of death to natural is a big, big jump. Completely opposite ends of the scale.

"And what specifically caused you to realize your mistake, hm?" Ryan watched his face closely. "What made you doubt yourself?"

Cupido swallowed. "The head of Livermore, he called with his theory. Made sense."

The head of Livermore. This guy was coming up a lot. "What's his name?"

"Grant. Patrick Grant. Great guy."

"Right, I'm gonna head on over there," said Ryan, turning to his two coworkers. "I-"

"Has this been tested yet?" asked Helen, looking up from the report she was skimming to Cupido. "Any trial run?"

Cupido swallowed, his eyes unable to settle on anything, it seemed. "Uh, no. No, I don't think so."

Ryan shared a look with Helen. "So this is just, uh, completely theoretical?" 

"I- I wanted to test it, to run it, so did Patrick," blurted Cupido, eyes wide. "But Sh- But there's no need. It's basic science. It's true."

The three cops stood in dubious silence, watching him. He was visibly sweating now, wiping a hand across his mouth. Ryan cleared his throat, turning away.

"Yeah, I'm gonna head over there right now." He gave them a quick wave and a smile. "See you at the station, yeah?"

* * *

"I said not to test it," snapped Shane into the phone, hurrying out of the Patrick's offices towards his car. His fingers fumbled to get a hold of his keys. "No, Cupido. I don't care what they say, convince them otherwise." He sighed heavily, leaning against his car door, like a teenager throwing a strop. "God damnit, man! Why can't you just tell them to fuck off? Grow a pair!"

"But what about Gorchynski? She's going to sue you for six million, I heard! I think we should just-"

"I took care of Gorchynski," replied Shane meaningfully, glaring at his reflection in his car window as he leaned over it. "Just do  _not_  test it. That's all you have to do. Or not do, really. Good. Good, now, bye."

He hung up, taking a deep breath, eyes closed. For a moment, he just soaked up some sun, feeling himself calm down a bit. Not for long, however. He straightened up instantly at the sound of the suspicious voice, scowling over his shoulder at its owner.

"How did you 'take care of' Gorchynski?"

Shane didn't answer for a moment, turning to directly face Ryan standing a few feet away. "You're getting into a very bad habit of turning up when you're least wanted. Did you know that?"

Ryan smiled dryly. "Am I ever wanted?"

"Only when I feel like throttling someone." Shane folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the car behind him. "Where are you off to, hm? Snooping around some more offices? Because I know you love that  _so_  much."

"Here's a question." Ryan wandered a bit closer as he spoke, a smug smile on his face. "Do hospitals usually just have six million dollars lying around, or are you going to have to scrape and scavenge to get it?" He grinned at the narrow-eyed glare on the taller man's face. "Are you going to have to really struggle, and plead, and  _beg_  to get that money? I'm just curious."

"Mm. Are you."

"Oh, very much." 

Shane was silent for a moment, looking at him like he was a disease. "I think you'll be feeling very upset soon. But can you wait until about, oh, I don't know, around half three to cry? I want to be around to see it."

Ryan rolled his eyes, turning away. "Yeah, whatever you say, big guy."

"Hey, Ryan." He gave the shorter man a wink, opening his car door. "You're looking good today. Nice and composed. Enjoy it while you can."

Shane sat into the car, one leg still out as he checked the fresh text from Steven on his phone. _Gorchynski dying?_

"Why don't you want the whole dimethyl whatever theory to be tested?" Ryan had come back to stand at the open door, one hand resting on the top of it. "I'm assuming that's what you were talking to Cupido about on the phone."

Shane shook his head, giving a sharp laugh. "God, you're relentless, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well how about this." Shane leaned forwards, beckoning for Ryan to come closer, like he was about to reveal the meaning of life. "Listen, listen closely." He dropped his voice to a secretive whisper. "It's none of your business."

Ryan rolled his eyes, straightening back up as Shane pulled a face of mock-wonder. "Very funny. Asshole."

"Can you believe it though?" Shane kept up the guise of being stunned, eyes wide. "Sometimes stuff just isn't your business! Truly wild."

Ryan went to slam the car door, Shane's hand flying out to catch it before it could close on his leg. "Oh, whoops. My bad."

Shane watched him storm off towards Patrick's offices, finally sitting fully into the car. He was beginning to realize that this detective was a hell of an opponent; he had an unexpected attitude, was surprisingly sultry, and worst of all, was good-looking to the point of irritation. Some days, all Shane would have to do is look at the guy to be put in a bad mood. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he wasn’t just hot, but seemed to know it. He’d flash a crooked smile at him from across a room. He’d lean on his desk in his short-sleeves and open collar, holding his gaze, as if just waiting to catch Shane’s eyes flickering to his bared skin. As if just waiting to catch him out on something. Shane just wasn’t sure what. Because the guy couldn't possibly know about what the Board was doing. It just wouldn't make sense.

He went back to his phone, replying to Steven. _Not dying. Just taken care of_. She'd be fine. Probably. What mattered was that she wouldn't be able to sue anybody anytime soon. He sent Patrick a quick text as a second thought. _Don't say shit_. 

* * *

"No no no no." Ryan kept the phone to his ear as he basically tumbled from his car, racing across the lot towards the hospital. "No, Helen, keep her conscious!"

"We can't, Ryan! That'd be even worse for her."

"It was Shane! I know it was!"

"Ryan, stop." Her voice was soothing. "You're just upset. She'll be fine, she just has to go into intensive care for a while."

"He did it! I know he did! He-"

"We'll talk once you get here," she replied calmly. "Just calm down a bit, okay? There's enough panic in the place right now."

He hung up, wanting to fling his phone through the nearest window. Instead, he put it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath. Maybe she was right. How could Shane have given Gorchynski avascular necrosis? Is that even a thing you can inflict on someone? He wasn't sure. The not knowing was highly irritating to him. But Shane had talked about 'taking care of' the nurse. So is this what he meant? Ryan hurried down the corridors, towards the sound of voices. Is this what Shane meant when he said he had taken care of her?

"Oooh, Ryan." The detective froze, half-turning to see Shane wandering across the adjoining corridor, looking at his watch. "You're just on time."

Ryan took out his phone, seeing it was half three on the dot. "What the fuck did you do to her."

"Excuse me?"

Ryan strode up to him, pausing barely a foot away. "What did you do to Julie Gorchynski? I know it was you, you dick."

Shane had an eyebrow almost-raised, like he wasn't quite interested enough to raise it fully. "That's a big accusation, Ryan. A big accusation from such a little man."

"Do you have any morals at all?" Ryan looked him up and down with open loathing. "How long is she going to be in intensive care? How long?"

Shane took a deep breath, pensive. "How about two weeks?"

Ryan gritted his teeth. "What do you mean."

"I give you two weeks to change her mind," shrugged Shane, hands in his pockets. "That should be more than enough time."

The shorter man held his gaze, feeling like he was looking at Satan himself. "And what if I don't want to change her mind."

Shane was quiet for a moment, before speaking in a dangerously soft voice. "Then she better make the most of those two weeks."

"You son of a bitch." Ryan lashed out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, forcing him back a few steps. "You son of a _bitch_. She's an innocent woman."

Shane took hold of the shorter man's wrists, wrenching the hands off his shirt. "Watch yourself, pal."

"I'll tell them about your little phone call to Cupido," threatened Ryan, very aware of the tight grip still on his wrists. "I'll run this place into the damn ground. With you first."

Shane was quiet, keeping a hold of Ryan's wrists even as the man tried to pull them free. "I don't remember having any such phone call."

"Oh save it, Shane." He finally twisted his wrists free, stepping back. "I think I'll tell them right now."

"Go ahead. Embarrass yourself." Shane smiled at him. "Make my day."

Ryan watched him in silence for a long moment. Neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the panicked voices a few corridors down, and the beeping of a heart monitor somewhere nearby. Steady. Rhythmic. Unlike either of their own hearts. 

"What are you doing here?" asked Ryan quietly, eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding?"

A smirk flitted across the taller man's mouth. "Oh, Ryan. You're so out of your depth here, it's hilarious. I'd make a height joke about it, but I don't want to make you cry. Not quite yet."

Ryan turned away with an impatient tut, hearing the footsteps of the taller man follow. "Fuck off."

"It's my hospital. I can go where I want."

He stopped short, half-turning so suddenly Shane almost walked straight into him. "Stop following me."

Shane shrugged. "Alright. But I just hope you've learnt your lesson here, Ryan."

The shorter man paused, watching Shane meander off into the break room, twirling the set of keys attached to his belt. They were always attached to him. Ryan followed to the doorway, eyes still fixed on the keys. There were two, one regular-sized, the other small. Dainty. He assumed the larger one was a master key of some sort. So what was the smaller one?

Shane leaned back against the counter, hands resting either side of him. "You're giving me very mixed signals here, detective. Do you want me around, or no?"

Ryan's gaze shifted from the keys to his face, blinking. "Uh, no. I don't want you around."

"Then go on." Shane nodded towards the corridor. "Get lost. And hopefully never get found again."

Ryan smiled stiffly. "Ha ha. Ha. You're so witty."

"You're not laughing."

"No. I'm not."

Shane stayed where he was, watching the shorter man cross the room towards him. "Can I help you."

"I just have a question." Ryan came to a halt just in front of him, casually putting out a hand, taking hold of the keys on his belt. "What're these for?"

After a few long seconds of silence, he glanced up, finding that Shane was staring down at him with a less than impressed look on his face. He didn't take his eyes from Shane's, or his hand from the keys. Instead, he gave the keys an experimental tug, hearing Shane inhale sharply as his hips were yanked forwards with the movement. 

"They're keys," replied Shane as he exhaled, not taking his eyes from Ryan's as he felt the hand slip off his keys, starting to trail along his belt. "What do you think they're used for?"

"To unlock things, of course." Ryan let his fingers linger on the taller man's belt buckle as he said this, seeing Shane raise an eyebrow at the touch. "But what things?"

"If you're trying to seduce me, you're going to have to try harder." Shane stepped around him, the shorter man's hand sliding off him as he did so. "Much harder."

"How much harder?"

Shane paused, turning to look back at him. "As hard as you want. Either way, you're going to fail miserably." He tapped his chin, looking very thoughtful indeed. "So yeah, why don't you try as hard as you can? Provide me with some entertainment in the very boring situation at hand."

Ryan struggled to keep the dislike off his face, not quite succeeding. "You're a real piece of work, aren't you."

"Don't look so mad, little guy." He continued on towards the door, stretching leisurely on the way. "Or maybe do. It's cute."

"I'm going to tell everyone about what happened in 1991."

Shane froze on the spot, like he'd been blasted with an actual freeze-ray. He didn't reply. Instead, he slowly turned to look at the shorter man, his face unreadable.

"Would that make you angry?" Ryan closed the space between them, hands on his hips. "Would that put some pressure on you, would it? Because the media knowing that two staff were hospitalized due to poisonous gases in this place wouldn't go down too well right now, would it?"

The taller man still didn't speak, his jaw clenched, eyes glittering with anger. 

"Or what about in 1993?" continued Ryan, a pensive frown on his face. "When sewer gases were found in the emergency room here? Not very good news. For you, anyway. It's great news for the local _and_ national papers."

"I wasn't in charge back then," said Shane in a voice stiff with barely-contained fury, his fists clenched by his sides. "As you should know."

"I do know." Ryan shrugged flippantly, entirely unconcerned, it appeared. "But I have a feeling the media won't give a shit. Or the family. Or the Departm-"

Shane grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, forcing him back against the kitchen counter, their eyes locked. “Don’t test me, you little prick. I mean it.”

“Oh, you mean it, do you?” Ryan spared him a bitter smile, even as he felt Shane slip a leg between his, their bodies pressed together. He kept his hands lazily raised, holding them at shoulder height. “I’m scared. Really, I am.”

Shane returned the dry smile, his hand distractedly wandering up from the shorter man’s collar to settle around his throat. “God, you are just  _begging_  for it, aren’t you?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Not yet.” Shane had to look directly downwards to keep eye contact, knowing that their proximity would be very difficult to explain if anyone decided to walk in. “But soon.”

He could feel Ryan’s voice as he spoke, feel it against his hand. “I don’t think you get to decide that.”

“I think I do.” Shane let the words hang in the air for a moment before stepping back, turning away as casually as if he hadn’t just physically assaulted a cop. “You can do what you want, Ryan. Just don't forget what happened today."

Ryan let out the breath he was holding once the other man had left the room. He gripped the counter as he leaned back against it, head hanging, gradually getting his thoughts and his pulse to stop racing. He inhaled deeply, raising his head, pretty certain he could still feel the hand around his throat. Not tight. But firm. He could've arrested the guy there and then. He should've. But he hadn't. He'd been too busy trying to stop himself from doing something stupid. He took out his phone, dialing Steven's number. Time to get the media involved, and properly this time. And little did Andrew, Steven, and Adam know that they were about to be torn apart by two men they'd considered their allies.


	5. Back Against The Wall

“No, no, it’s completely understandable.”

The office was nice and warm, the sunlight filtering in through the trees, through the window. 

“We have well enough reason not to trust you, seeing as what happened in this hospital a while ago.”

Actually, it was a bit stuffy. A bit too warm. And the sunlight hurt his eyes.

“Thirty years ago,” clarified Shane, sitting forwards to fold his arms on his desk. “That's a long time ago, no matter what the papers say. And I want to be clear in saying that I run things very, very differently.”

The Ramirez family seemed generally lofty towards him, avoiding eye contact in a haughty manner. Gloria's mother and father, her husband, and the worst, her children. A little boy and a little girl. They were looking at him like he was evil. Shane looked away from the children, finding the same looks on the adults' faces. Families grieved like this, sometimes. Other times, they had law enforcement pricks whispering in their ears, all full of support and sunshine smiles. Shane relaxed his grip on his arms, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized had been trapped behind his gritted teeth.

“Listen, Mrs Ramirez.” He kept his voice level, civilized. “An independent autopsy would just be a waste of time and money on your part. I understand that you and your family are upset, but myself and my staff are professionals, and the few, uh, disasters from three decades ago shouldn’t be on your mind.”

“We’ve talked about it among ourselves,” replied the father, sternly. “And an independent autopsy would give us peace of mind, and some closure.”

Why was he speaking like he was recalling a memory, the words not quite rolling off his tongue? Shane felt himself grow increasingly livid, struggling to stay cool, to stay calm. To stay in control.

“Tell me, are you all receiving therapy?”

The three adults paused before sharing a look. Shane raised an inquiring eyebrow, waiting for them to reply. This could be his way out. 

“I would really advise trying to get this, what was it, ‘peace of mind’ and 'closure’ from something that might actually be productive,” said Shane with a comforting smile, looking at all of them one by one. “That’s just my opinion. My  _educated_ opinion.” He emphasized the adjective, seeing the reconsideration in their faces. “Or are you already receiving some sort of support?”

“Well, yes,” replied Mr Ramirez, nodding slowly. “The officers involved in the case have been very good to us. Very kind. Most definitely supportive.”

Shane kept the forced smile on his face. “Inspiring, could you say?”

Mrs Ramirez nodded along with her husband. “Yes. I suppose so.”

“Well, I’d love to have a chat with them.” Shane raised his eyebrows. “Can you recall their names?”

“Uh, Bergara, and-”

“Great.” He got to his feet, seeing them sit back in their chairs, watching him almost warily. Still cautious of him. Probably due to whatever Ryan was letting slip around them. “The hospital will pay for a round of therapy for you and any other family members that feel the way you do. And if you still feel like you want an independent autopsy at the end, we’ll cooperate.”

They agreed. Of course they agreed. Why wouldn’t they? Offering free stuff was always a last resort, though. And he really didn't appreciate having to pull out the last resort at such an early stage in this game. Shane sat back down once they’d left, kicking his feet up on the table, dialing the therapist’s office.

“It’s Shane. Yeah, listen, I need you to do me a favor.” He spun in his seat to stare out the window, still slouched, like he was having a chat with his mother about how his day had been. “The Ramirez family are going to get some sessions from you, the hospital are going to cover it. Ten weeks? Yeah, that should be long enough. But I need you to convince them to back off this whole independent autopsy bullshit that’s been drilled into their heads. Yeah, say whatever you need to. Tell them they have whatever mental illness, as long as they shut up and stay shut up. Perfect. Thanks.”

He stayed where he was after he’d hung up, phone resting against his chin as he plotted. About what to do. About Ryan. The little fucker was trying to crack him, was trying to find some weakness, somewhere. That much was clear. What Shane really wanted to do was find him at the station and put a pen through his eye. But unfortunately, he’d have to be a bit more subtle. A bit more sly. Which he could do. He slowly turned back in his chair, reaching for his desk phone, pressing down the button that linked him directly to Sara’s office.

“Sara?”

A buzzing silence. “Uh, yeah?”

“How long does it take a body to decompose?”

A laugh. “Fully? About eight to twelve years.”

“Not fully. Just a little bit.” He shrugged, not that she could see. “Just until it’s too disgusting to operate on.”

No laugh this time. “Why?”

“C'mon, Sara. No questions, we both know that.”

A silence. “About seventy-two hours for organs to start breaking down. Five days until the body starts to bloat. After about month…”

He waited. “What?”

“It starts, well, melting.”

He grimaced, hiding the disgust in his voice. “And what about ten weeks?”

“Basically sludge.”

“Perfect.”

"Shane..." She sounded hesitant, even through the phone. "What are you going to do?"

He let himself breathe for a moment before answering. "My job."

* * *

"He won't talk to me," shrugged Steven, looking ever so slightly put out. "He thought we shouldn't have done what you asked. But you're cool, Ryan. I like you."

Ryan smiled at him, but inside he was panicking. "Why didn't Andrew want to do what I asked?"

Steven looked away, biting on his lip. "I don't think I should tell you."

Which meant he was going to do exactly that. "Is there someone threatening you or something? Because you know I could sort that out."

"Not really." Steven hesitated, glancing back at where Adam sat in the van, legs kicked up on the dashboard. Like a moody teenager being dragged between his divorced parents. "It's... Well, you know Shane Madej, right?"

Ryan's face visibly darkened at the mention of the man's name. "I know of him. Yes." 

"We kinda helped him out every now and then." Steven raised his hands, a helpless gesture. "He pays good, and Andrew likes him."

"Likes him more than he likes me." It wasn't a question. Ryan knew just how charming, how funny and friendly Shane could be. It was disgusting. "So that's it. You guys aren't talking anymore."

"Yeah. Not until I agree to go with Shane. Or he agrees to come with me and you." Steven paused, searching the other man's preoccupied face. "You're annoyed about something. Is it Shane?"

"No. No, it's not Shane." He said the name like it was a virus that could infect him just by being spoken. "It's nothing."

"Because Shane's mentioned you a few times." 

Ryan looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Mentioned me how."

"I'll be honest and say not nicely." Steven leaned back on the bonnet, grinning at him. "He doesn't like you, Ryan. Not one bit."

"I'll try not to get too upset over it." Ryan sighed heavily, taking off his cap to run his fingers through his hair in a very exasperated manner altogether. "He's hiding something, Steven. Or covering for someone. I don't know. But fuck, I want to."

"Yeah, he can be a bit strange sometimes." Steven moved back around to the driver's door, pausing to throw him a concerned glance. "But be careful, Ryan. He's... I've heard some stuff. About what he's done to people. He's got every medical center in a fifty-mile radius on a tight leash, dude. Just... be careful."

Ryan nodded, wondering if he should point out that he'd already seen just how far Shane was willing to go to hide whatever he was hiding. "Hey, Steven."

"Mm?"

"How come you got the van?"

"Oh." He shrugged. "I got in it before Andrew did."

Ryan let himself laugh, the sound trailing off as he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He frowned at the unknown number, answering only after the van had rumbled off down the road, back towards town. 

"Hello?"

A pause. "We need to talk."

Ryan took a deep, calming breath at the voice. "I thought you weren't going to put my number anywhere near your phone. That's what you said, right?"

"Mm." Another pause, in which he could almost hear Shane restraining himself from saying whatever he really wanted to say. "Are you nearby?"

"Near enough."

"Fantastic." The word was flat, dry. The complete opposite to its definition. "And I'll be extra nice and slot you in before a very important appointment I have."

"Stop. I'm blushing."

A wry laugh, just bordering on amused. "God, you're a real pain in the ass. A real cheese grater to the face."

Ryan crossed the quiet road to his car, wondering why he wasn't just hanging up on the guy. "Yeah, you're awful too. And I hate you."

"Mm. Say that again."

Ryan's eye narrowed in perplexion. "I hate you?"

"Oh baby. That does things to me."

"Jesus Chr- Shut up." This time, Ryan did hang up, but not before he heard the sharp laugh from the other man. "Asshole."

He started the engine, knowing full well that he shouldn't go and talk to the guy. He shouldn't. If Shane wanted to talk, to actually talk like normal people, then he must be feeling some sort of pressure. He must be cracking a tiny bit. Unless he didn't want to talk at all. Ryan paused, stopping the car in the middle of the otherwise empty road. What if this was some sort of trap? _You're being ridiculous!_ Yeah, he was. He was just being stupid. He continued driving, still with that uneasy feeling pressing in on his chest. _Relax. This isn't a damn episode of CSI or some bullshit_. He was just going to the hospital. To talk. With Shane. Using words and being civilized. And that was when Ryan realized that perhaps his uneasiness was justified.

They were never civilized.

* * *

Shane didn't turn around as he heard the knock on his door, keeping his distracted gaze aimed outside, where the dusk was beginning to settle in. "Come in."

The door opened. It shut. The silence prevailed. 

"Ryan." He said the name like it was an exquisite dish at a restaurant, letting it roll off his tongue. "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. I sure do hope it's you standing behind me, or I'll look like a bit of a tool." 

"It's me."

" _Ryaaaaan_." He slowly turned on his heel, arms folded across his chest, a slight smile on his face. "You came."

Ryan stayed by the door, a hand still on the handle. "You sound happy."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Are you serious?" Ryan sounded genuinely confused, a frown on his face.

Shane shrugged. "Alright, that's fair, actually. Sit down."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this blatant order. "Excuse me?"

"Sit." Shane said it as if he was talking to a dog, gesturing vaguely at the seats in front of his desk. "C'mon. Don't be difficult."

Ryan moved towards the seats, going right past them, circling the desk to plonk himself down in the chair behind it. Shane's chair. He sat back in it, his chin resting on his hand as he gazed up at Shane with big eyes, and a bigger smile. 

"Happy?"

Shane was looking down at him from under heavy lids, eyebrows slightly raised. Impressed, but irritated. "Mildly content."

"Ah. I'll try harder next time."

"Yeah. You do that." Shane took hold of the back of the chair, turning it so that Ryan was facing the desk directly. "Now watch this. And watch closely."

Ryan gave him a sidelong glance as the taller man leaned over his shoulder, picking up a pen off the desk, locating a piece of paper. "Watch what?"

"What I'm writing." Shane kept an arm across the back of the chair, just touching Ryan's shoulders, his other hand scratching out a few figures onto a Post-It note. "See that?"

Ryan could feel the taller man's breath against his ear as he spoke, feel the arm almost draped across his shoulders, the hand of which was distractedly tracing circles on the bare skin below his shirt sleeve. "Yeah."

"Big number, right?"

"Pretty big."

Shane tapped a finger down on the paper, a single, meaningful tap. "That's the amount of American dollars I'm willing to give to you in order for you to leave me alone."

For a split second, it was tempting. But only for a split second. Ryan turned the chair to face him, the taller man not backing away, so that their faces were only bare inches apart. Shane leaned forwards slightly, letting out a quiet breath, his hand still on the chair behind Ryan's shoulder. He brought his other hand off the desk to grip the arm of the chair, seeing the small smile flicker across Ryan's face. The knowing grin. His grip tightened on the chair, either side of the shorter man.

"Bribing a police officer." Ryan shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "You just get better."

"So it's a no."

"Yeah, it's a no." Ryan sat more upright in the chair, Shane pushing himself back to stand up fully. "Because I actually have a sense of honor."

"Honor? What is this, the sixteen hundreds?" Shane scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Fuck your honor, Ryan Bergara. It won't get you far anyway."

"You're right." Ryan remained relaxing in the chair, eyes drifting down Shane's body to the keys at his belt. More specifically to the smaller, more mysterious one. "What's that for?"

Shane ignored the question, an eyebrow raised. "You can go."

"I'm trying to strike a deal here, Shane." He leaned forwards, taking hold of the key, his gaze lifting to meet the taller man's. "Show me what this unlocks, and I'll back off."

Shane was silent for a moment, the thoughts almost visible whirring behind his eyes. “Right.”

“So we have a deal?"

 _Hell no_. “I guess.”

“Great.” Ryan smiled brightly at him, a nice big sunshine one. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Shane didn’t smile back. He was too busy thinking. Thinking of how to get out of this without looking like the most suspicious man in the country. But there was no way in hell he was going to open that drawer. Jesus, how much stuff had accumulated in it? The letter from Livermore, Ramirez's original autopsy, her blood samples, the records of the staff the night it all went down. Opening that drawer would be sealing both their fates.  _Come on, Madej. Swing this, and swing it hard_.

“Sure. It’s just this drawer.” He crouched down, purposely teetering off balance, placing a firm hand on Ryan’s knee to steady himself. “Oh, woops. Clumsy me.”

Ryan didn’t reply. Just watched him, almost warily. Like he knew something was up. He didn’t move the hand away, however. He was too busy trying to hide just how curious he was about this key, this key that hadn't left Shane's side since day one.

“Ah, it’s locked,” said Shane after a fake pull at the drawer in question, sighing heavily. “Just let me get the key.”

“You’re taking your time about it.”

“I’m just trying to remember which one it is," replied Shane pensively, still with the hand on Ryan’s knee, as if he’d forgotten it was there. “God, is it the big one, or the small one?”

“Is that really your best excuse?” 

Shane turned his head to look up at him, giving a small smile as he draped his arm across Ryan’s knee like he was leaning on a bar. “Hm?”

“Is that your best excuse to try and not open that drawer?” said Ryan, looking altogether unimpressed, head still resting on his hand. “I could just open it myself.”

“Ah, but you couldn’t.” Shane moved to face him fully, still down on one knee. “Because you don’t have a warrant.”

“I could get one.”

“You might find that the contents of this drawer change almost daily,” said Shane quietly, holding his gaze. “Maybe even hourly.”

Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth. “For a Medical Director, you’re very disorganized, aren’t you?”

“I think you’ll find that it’s more about improvisation than anything else.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh really. Anyway, my excuse wasn’t to avoid opening the drawer.” He let his free hand drift up to Ryan’s other knee, pushing his legs apart, so that he could fit in between them. Nice and snug. “Mainly because that drawer is actually completely empty.”

Ryan felt his heartbeat jump as the hands made their way up his legs, slow but determined, thumbs pressing into the inside of his thighs. “So you lied to a cop.”

Shane simply smiled as his fingers slipped under Ryan’s belt, under the badge, pulling him forwards, flush against him. “Any proof of this lie?”

Ryan swallowed as the hands slid up under his shirt, tracing up his sides. Frustratingly slow. This was not going as planned. He had absolutely no control right now, and he hated it. “Open the drawer. Show me it’s empty.”

“I’d rather show you other things.”

“Right.” He had to almost look directly down to look the man in the eye, refusing to touch back. To react in any way. He was gripping the bit of the seat behind him like it was an anchor, squirming slightly as he felt the hands exploring under his shirt, his breathing growing heavier. “Like what.”

“Like…” The response trailed off as Shane let his eyes drift down to Ryan’s mouth, hands moving to his shirt buttons, slowly beginning to undo them. “You have no idea.”

Ryan’s inhale was audible, the calming effect he’d hoped to gain from it not quite successful. “Give me an idea.”

Shane pushed the shirt apart, fingers slipping around Ryan’s sides, pulling him forwards as he pressed a lingering kiss against his stomach, just below the ribs. He felt the muscles stiffen against his mouth as Ryan exhaled sharply. “I’ll give you more than that.” He continued trailing his lips down his stomach as he spoke, feeling the hand tangle in his hair, grip tightening as he got lower. “I’ll give you an example.”

Ryan had his eyes closed, biting hard on his lip, knowing that if he opened his mouth he’d be straight-up panting. “Why don’t- Why don’t you _\- Fuck_ , why don’t you just give me-” He inhaled sharply, unable to mentally form a sentence as he felt the hands on his belt buckle. “Just open it. First. Open the drawer."

The self-satisfied smirk pulled at Shane’s mouth, just enough to make Ryan’s blood boil. “Let’s trade. How about-”

Ryan suddenly leaned back, bringing his leg up, the tip of his sneaker pushing into Shane’s chest to hold him away. “How about you open the drawer, and then I’ll let you show me whatever you want.”

Shane stayed where he was, leaning back on one knee, hands raised like he had a gun drawn on him. He was quiet for a moment, looking ever-so-slightly ticked off. “Resilient. I like that.”

“Oh, do you.”

“Yeah.” He flashed him a grin, still with an irritated glint in his eyes. “Makes the final break more satisfying. A nice…” He clicked his fingers. “ _Snap_.”

Ryan held his gaze, leaning back in the seat as he let out the air caught in his throat, keeping his foot against the other man’s chest to keep him back. “Right.”

He watched, heart freezing, as Shane rested an arm on the desk, finger pressing a button on his phone. “Hey, Sara? Can you come in here?”

“You absolute little-” Ryan fumbled to button up his shirt, shooting to his feet, throwing himself against the door to keep it shut as he hurried to finish covering himself. “Oh, you little bitch.”

Shane’s hand landed on his chest, preventing any more buttons from being done up. His other hand scrambled for the door handle, not quite making it before Ryan caught his wrist, forcing it away. The door budged slightly as Sara shoved against it, a confused hum accompanying it.

“Tell her to go away,” hissed Ryan, struggling to get Shane’s hand off his chest, quite surprised by his strength. “Now!”

“I don’t think so, pal,” replied Shane sharply, the door moving again. “Push, Sara! It’s just stuck!”

Ryan suddenly grabbed hold of the taller man’s shirt, ripping the top half of the buttons open with enough force to tear some of the fabric. Shane leaned forward against the door in an attempt to now keep it closed, elbows either side of Ryan’s head, their faces inches apart, gazes locked. The shorter man still had a hold of Shane’s shirt, bundled up in his fists. They were both breathing heavily, their mouths straying dangerously close as Sara gave the door another sharp shove.

“I think the door’s locked!” she called, sounding understandably puzzled.

“It’s- It’s fine!” Shane used a hand to hold his shirt back in place, the other still pressed against the door. “You don’t need to come in.”

“Uh, okay. Cool.”

They waited in silence until they were sure she was gone. Then they waited some more, simply staring at each other. Daring the other to move first. To decide which road to take from here. Either option was physically strenuous, the difference being that one was painful, and the other was not. It was a difficult decision; a straight-up fistfight that would most definitely get them both fired, or a particularly furious round of sex that would still probably get them fired. Maybe both.

Ryan finished buttoning up his shirt, head resting back against the door as Shane moved forwards ever so slightly, their lips brushing. Lingering just centimeters apart.

Ryan swallowed, gaze lowered. “You just assaulted a cop.”

“It was self-defense.” Shane kept his voice airy, innocent. “He  _attacked_  me, officer! Look, he even tore my shirt, he was  _insane_ , he-”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I told you not to try me, Ryan.” He finally straightened up, noticing how the shorter man visibly relaxed at the movement. “But you did. So here we are.”

Ryan gritted his teeth in irritation, eyes narrowed. “Oh you are going down, Madej. You are going  _down_.”

“Yeah yeah.” He forced himself to turn away, moving back to the window. “Let yourself out.”

Shane only let himself properly relax once the door had shut. He leaned forwards on the sill, taking long, steadying breaths. He usually didn’t take this long to break someone, to have them on their knees. Really, he was beginning to wonder if  _he_  was the one going to his knees. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting it out through his mouth. No, he still had it under control. He did.

“Well?” Sara slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. “What was that? Did you get him?”

He turned to look at her, gesturing at his torn shirt. “Not quite. No.”

“Oh damn.”

“He’s smarter than he lets on,” said Shane moodily. “I almost had him. I did. And then I didn’t.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not  _losing_ , are you?”

“No I’m not losing,” he replied wryly, wondering if this was a lie or not. “I’ll admit that it’s a challenge. And that’s good. I like a challenge.” The last few words were spoke through gritted teeth, making Sara wonder how true they really were.

“Don’t let it go too far though, Shane.” She fixed him with a concerned look. "Did he take the cash?"

"No, he wouldn't take the stupid cash." He buried his face in his hands, sighing a sharp sigh, running his hands back through his hair. "It's fine. He'll slip up. I'll make sure of it."

* * *

 

Ryan took a few minutes to simply sit in his car, head resting back against the seat, eyes closed as he took nice, slow breaths. That had been close. Way too close. The son of a bitch knew how to play, that much was clear. Ryan jumped as he felt his phone ring, answering once he saw it was just Kelsey.

“Yeah?”

“Well?” She sounded like she was in the middle of the office. “What's going on? Where've you been?”

He pressed his lips together in a firm line, his other hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Just around. I was just in with Madej."

“And? What happened?" She waited for him to answer, her worry palpable. "Did something go wrong?”

“He almost fucked me up, Kelsey.” He scowled at the building in the rear view mirror as he spoke. “I mean, really fucked me up. Almost got me caught.”

“Oh shit.”

“Just- I’m going to call it a day." He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut as she rattled off some stuff about taking it easy. "I'll see you tomorrow. Night."


	6. Sink My Teeth In Deep

_"Ryan.” The name dripped from Shane’s lips, just behind him. “You came.”_

_They were in Shane’s office, but Ryan couldn’t see the other man. He could hear him. And he could feel him. He could feel the hand on his shoulder, slowly pushing down to his chest, Shane’s fingers slipping through the gaps between his shirt buttons. Touching his skin._

_“Gorchynski, Ramirez, Lim, Ilnyckyj.” Each murmured name sent chills down his spine, his breath catching in his throat as he felt Shane’s other hand slide under his jaw, holding it firmly. “How many more are you going to hurt here, Ryan?”_

_“I’m not,” replied Ryan hoarsely, still unable to bring himself to look behind him, to look at the taller man. “You. You’re hurting them.”_

_“The family is the worst, Ryan.” Shane’s fingers lightly traced along his jaw, making him swallow, eyes closed. “Why can’t you just let them move on?”_

_“It’s you.” Ryan tried to pull away, finding that he simply couldn’t. He couldn't. “You’re hurting them. Not me.”_

_“The poor children. Without a mother. And now with you, prolonging their grief.” The hand settled on the side of Ryan’s face, a possessive gesture, fingers resting lightly across his mouth. “It’s all for nothing, Ryan.”_

_“It’s not. It’s not.” He went to move away, Shane’s grip tightening, on his chest, on his jaw. He was beginning to grow hot, too hot to be comfortable, the taller man’s fingers searing into him like a brand. “Stop. Stop it.”_

_“You’re digging your own grave, Ryan Bergara.”_

_Ryan stumbled as he was suddenly yanked more upright, his hands flying up to grasp Shane's wrists, the taller man pulling him back more firmly against him. An arm across his chest, a hand now holding his jaw too tightly to be caressing. Forcing him to look right ahead, at what was happening to the office._

_“This is your fault.” Shane’s voice was taunting, mocking, Ryan could feel his chin resting on top of his head as the taller man easily held him in place. “Look at what you’re doing.”_

_Ryan’s eyes were wide with fright, the flames latching onto every surface, smoke billowing fiercely into the air. Yet the people standing in the flames didn’t react, didn’t move but to stare directly at Ryan. Directly into him. Gloria’s children, her husband, her mother and father. Kelsey, Helen, Steven, all of them, even Cupido, even Patrick Grant. Just crumbling to ashes._

_“STOP!” Ryan reached behind him, his hands grabbing nothing but air. It was then he realized there was nothing holding him in place anymore._

_He spun, trying to find him, trying to find Shane. The office was shrouded in black, flickering shadows from the flames. But no Shane. Then the screams started. The screams from the fire, some from voices so familiar. He could feel hot tears on his face as he forced himself to brave the heat, moving towards the fire, an arm raised to protect his eyes._

_“Helen? Kelsey? I-”_

_Shane stepped out of the fire, took him by the jaw, and pressed a harsh kiss to his lips._

His own shuddering inhale woke him up. Ryan flew out of his bed, scrambling to turn on the light, panting for breath like he’d just run a marathon with a thousand terrors following him. He yanked his t-shirt off over his head, looking down to make sure there wasn’t a handprint burned into his chest, that there weren’t finger marks branded into his skin. Nothing. But he could still feel them. He could feel the heat on his chest, his neck, his jaw, but most of all on his lips. Where Shane had kissed him. Kissed him like it was the only thing that could give him life. Ryan slid down against the wall, face buried in his hands, appreciating the coolness of the wall against his back. Where Shane had been pressed against him. _No, no, it was just a dream. Just a dream._  He sat there, reassuring himself. Until morning finally came.

Nightmares weren’t anything new, though. Not really. Ryan had them frequently enough, but usually just about stupid things. Like giant snakes eating LA, stupid stuff along those lines that he could just laugh off the next day. That he could tell to his coworkers, joke around about it. But he couldn’t talk about this one. He didn’t want to. It was the one truly terrifying nightmare he’d ever had. He sat at his desk, staring into nothing, his fingers resting against his mouth. Lightly across his lips. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel it. Shane's mouth on his, determined, demanding. And over too soon.

"Hello? Earth to Ryan?"

He blinked himself out of his thoughts, straightening up to look at Helen standing in front of him. "Mm? Hi. Sorry."

"You look like you've seen a ghost, man." She laughed, sitting down at her own desk adjacent to his. "Actually, no. You'd probably be yelling about that."

"Yeah. Ha." He distractedly rubbed at his mouth, keeping his head ducked ever so slightly. He felt guilty, for some reason. Guilty, ashamed about something that hadn't even happened. 

"Have you ever heard of a razor?" she quipped, grinning.

He smiled back. "A what?"

"Leave him alone, Helen." Kelsey's eyes appeared over her computer screen, an eyebrow raised. "He's on a mission."

He gave her a flat look. "No, I'm not. I'm not doing that anymore. I _told_ you that."

"So you're not trying to bang him," she replied in a knowing voice, seeing the amused grin on Helen's face. "You're just pals now, are you?"

"Stop being stupid." He moved his chair in closer to his desk, scowling at his closed laptop. "We're not pals. We're not anything."

"Just two dudes constantly at each other's throats because of, uh, what's it called, sexual tension."

"It's not sexual!" he snapped, a bit more harshly than intended. "Shut up talking about it."

"Yikes, dude." Kelsey raised her eyebrows, looking back at her computer. "Chill."

Helen was still watching him, seeing the stress clear on his face. "Maybe you should backtrack a bit, Ryan. Go down the original route."

"Huh?"

"You're trying to play him at his own game. A game that he's a master at."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Gorchynski's out of the equation. Now so is the Ramirez family." She gave a small shrug. "He's held that position for over a year now, Ryan. That's a record at that place."

"But why?" He looked at her in all earnest, sincere curiosity on his face. "Why does everyone quit after, like, a month? Why is it such a stressful job, specifically in that hospital?"

She looked away, avoiding his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Either way, just be careful."

Be careful. He was hearing that everywhere recently. And it was beginning to irritate him. He _was_ being careful. Or so he thought. Because yes, he'd done a bit of research into the good ol' director of the hospital, and the results were everything to be wary of. The lab, the coroner's office, the damn funeral home all did what he said. He had the final say on everything, it appeared. He wasn't strictly liked across the board - some people seemed to love him, some people seemed to hate him - but either way, he was respected. Feared, even. And not one to cross. Which was exactly what Ryan was doing. But he was a cop, he could handle it. The last few detectives to deal with issues at the hospital had abandoned the cases, it seemed. Probably bribed, or threatened. Or charmed. Oh yes, Shane the charmer, and all the snakes dancing when he said dance. But Ryan wasn't a snake. No, Ryan was a fucking bear. The most apex predator known to man.

* * *

Shane didn't actually mind being made to wait. It was these rare moments that he had an excuse to quite literally do nothing. To just be. So he sat outside the superintendent's office, flicking through a magazine, allowing himself to just breathe. He couldn't seem to properly relax, however. Probably because Ryan was somewhere in the vicinity. Which would only make sense. He was a cop, at the end of the day. A fact that Shane seemed to let slip his mind often enough.

"Shane?"

He glanced up at Helen's voice, eyebrow raised. "Yeah. That's me."

"What are you doing here?" she asked in genuine confusion. 

"Oh, offering the superintendent my full cooperation regarding the Ramirez incident," he replied with an easy smile. "Just being friendly."

She was immediately suspicious. "And does the Board know you're doing this?"

Shane didn't reply for a long moment. "Not here. Ring Sara about it."

She got the message, continuing on down the hallway towards the offices. He went back to his magazine, all for about two minutes. He almost sensed the guy approaching, his shoulders growing tense, his eyes staring at the words in front of him but not reading a single one. He lowered the magazine so he could peer over it, seeing Ryan cross the corridor ahead. Unaware to the fact he was being watched, it seemed. He looked panicked, or ill, or stressed. Or all three. Just the way Shane liked it.

He watched Ryan head into the bathrooms, finally closing over the magazine and setting it aside.

* * *

Ryan splashed cold water on his face, leaning on the sink as he let it drip off his face. Maybe Helen was right. Maybe this was too much for him. He couldn't seem to focus at all today, and he couldn't imagine why this would change. 

"No," he muttered to himself, lifting up the end of his t-shirt to dry his face. It was black, so who cared? "No, I'm good."

"Are you?"

Ryan froze so suddenly it almost hurt. He straightened up, eyes fixing on Shane in the mirror, standing just a few feet behind him. It was literally like something from a horror movie.

Ryan dropped his t-shirt, turning to look at him. "What are you doing here."

"In the station? Or in the bathrooms?" Shane smiled. "C'mon. Specify."

Ryan watched him warily. "Both."

"I'm in the station to aid in your investigation," replied Shane with a nonchalant tilt of his head, his thick hair bouncing with the movement. "But I'm in the bathrooms because I saw you."

Ryan swallowed, unable to stop his gaze from dropping to the taller man's mouth. He wondered what it would feel like, in real life. Not in a nightmare. "How are you aiding in the investigation? Because if anything, you're my prime suspect."

Shane stopped barely a foot away, his gaze intense. "Am I."

"Definitely."

"We'll see what your employer has to say about that. After I lay down a few facts for her."

"Facts? Or twisted fiction?"

Shane smiled dryly. "Which do you think she'll believe? The Medical Director of the hospital saying Ramirez tragically died? Or a cop, who looks very much on the brink, saying that she was... She was what? Murdered?"

Ryan felt the sink pressing into his back as he went to step away from the approaching man, holding his gaze. "I know it wasn't as simple as you say it was. And the way you're acting definitely means you're full of shit."

“Her heart simply popped, Ryan.” He wandered even closer, his voice staying low, absent-minded. “Like a balloon. Due to kidney failure.”

Ryan gripped the sink behind him, the ceramic cool against his hands as he leaned back. “Yeah. I know.”

“Are you sure you know?” Shane was standing too close for comfort, looking down his nose at the shorter man. “I don't think you do. Because you sure seem convinced that there’s something left uncovered here.”

“Because there is.” He tried to keep his breathing level as he felt the bottom of his shirt hitch up, Shane’s hand slipping under. “What are you doing?”

“Do you even know where the kidneys are?” Shane’s hand suddenly tightened on his side, fingers digging into his back, just below the last rib. Ryan inhaled sharply, a hand flying up to grab hold of Shane’s shoulder, the other reaching back to grip the offending hand through his shirt. “ _This_ is where they  _are_.” Shane squeezed with each emphasized word, watching the clear pain on the shorter man’s face, Ryan’s teeth gritted to stop himself from crying out. “And when they stop working…”

“Get off me.” The words were snarled, Ryan’s teeth still clenched, his eyes squeezed shut. “Get off.”

“I’m just educating you, Ryan.” Shane dug his fingers in further, his other hand pressed against the cool mirror beside Ryan’s head. He kept his face inches from the shorter man’s, like he was trying to breathe in his pain. “Teaching you a lesson.”

Ryan was quiet but for his subdued gasps, feeling a droplet of water run down from his hair, along the side of his face. Starkly gentle, against the stinging pain where Shane was holding him. He couldn't seem to move, his own fingers digging into the taller man's shoulder. His breathing stopped altogether as Shane’s mouth pressed against the side of his face, over the trickle of water, tongue just about brushing his skin. Ryan stayed still, eyes still closed, letting out a sigh of relief as the torturous grip on his side was released. He turned his head slightly, feeling that Shane’s was still hovering close. The taller man’s hand moved outside his shirt, but remained holding him.

Shane ran his hands up the shorter man, up his stomach, over his chest, Ryan’s own hands guiding them to his neck. Ryan half-opened his eyes, unable to look him in the face. Not that Shane particularly wanted him to. The taller man leaned forwards, taking in the image of his fingers wrapped around Ryan’s throat. A blatant dare. On one hand, Shane could kill him. Right there and then. It would actually be pretty easy, seeing the positions they were currently in. He blinked, wondering since when the hell considering murder turned him on. Oh wait, yeah. Since he’d met Ryan.

Shane’s grip tightened, pushing Ryan’s head backwards as he leaned down to whisper the words against the shorter man’s parted mouth. “You’re mine.”

The swirling heat in Ryan’s stomach should’ve warned him, but he simply ignored it. He should’ve talked back. He should’ve said no, he wasn’t anyone’s, to get off him, to let go. But he didn’t. He just let Shane walk away, slumping back against the sink as the door swung shut. He clutched his still-stinging side, exhaling shakily. Was he breaking? No. No, he couldn't be. The words echoed in his head, low, lilting. _You're mine. You're mine, Ryan_. He spun around, suddenly retching, the bile burning his throat. _Mine. You're mine_.

* * *

A few hours had passed, and he still wasn't quite sure why he'd said that. Shane sat at his desk, hands pressed together in front of his mouth. Thoughtful. Pensive. A tiny bit concerned. He knew that he liked to be in control. He knew he could be a jealous man. Perhaps even territorial. What was his was his, and God help anyone who tried to take it from him. But what had urged him to say that to Ryan? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was the feeling of the shorter man's pulse racing under his hands. The fact he could feel him breathe, feel him swallow. Feel everything. And the sigh he'd heard as he'd kissed the side of his face. The softest sound he'd ever heard.

He wanted him. He wanted him bad. And he wanted him to himself.

The attempt at winning over the superintendent hadn't gone down as expected, which ruined his day even more than he'd originally thought. She _liked_ Ryan. She _trusted_ Ryan. _He_ was leading the investigation. _He_ would get the final say. It was disgusting.

The knock at the door was altogether unexpected. He frowned at it for a moment before clearing his throat, sitting back. "Come in."

His heart dropped at who stepped through the door. All six of them. The Board.

"Madej." Yang closed the door behind them, hands on his hips. "Haven't heard from you in a few days. I suggested we check up on you."

"It doesn't seem like you're handling this too well, does it?" Brunson wandered along the bookshelves, arms folded. "The papers are tearing this place a new one."

"It's fine," replied Shane, a lot more confident than he felt. "I have it under control."

"I'm not sure you do, though." Fulmer shrugged. "It's just that Adam Bianchi rang us up, said that Steven and Andrew aren't talking right now. Going through some domestic issues, probably. But that means you don't have the reigns on the media, do you?"

Shane pressed his lips together in a firm line, mentally cursing Ryan for dragging Steven away from him. "Not really. But I'm working on it."

"Do you need to step down?" Curly sounded genuinely concerned, but he was good at that. Good at making you feel vulnerable. "We-"

"I have everything under control," interrupted Shane sharply, getting to his feet. He gave them all a long look. "I'm just being provided with a bit of a challenge. But I have it. Under. Control."

"Jeez, man. We're just double-checking." Kornfeld adjusted his glasses as he watched him. They were all watching him. "What's the challenge?"

"Yeah! Spill." Habersberger sounded eager, a big smile on his face. "What could possibly be challenging the great Shane Madej?"

Shane paused, taking a deep breath. "The cops. Just one of them. He's just... got his claws in some of my sources. Some of my witnesses. That's all."

Quinta raised an eyebrow. "Damn. He must've got his claws in deep, because you look like you want to burn someone alive right now."

Shane spared her a dry smile. "You have no idea."

"Who is it?" asked Curly, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I wanna see if I know him."

"Bergara." The name was sour in his mouth. "Ryan Bergara."

"Oh, I've heard of him!" Keith turned to the rest of them, looking delighted with himself. "He's that guy who busted the drug ring out on bay. Like, last year. Remember?"

"That Ryan Bergara?" Eugene whistled through his teeth. "Watch yourself, Shane. I've actually heard about him."

"If this goes tits up, ring me." Quinta raised a finger at the rest of them. "These guys won't be any help. I'll help you out."

"What?" Zach threw her an offended scowl. "Why you?"

"I'm black _and_ I'm a woman," she replied, hands on her hips. "And I'm still on the Board with the rest of you. Which means I'm probably ten times smarter than all of you put together."

The silence lingered.

"Eh, she has a point," shrugged Keith. "But remember, Shane. If this gets out, you're a goner." He drew a finger across his throat, pulling a face. "Bleurgh. Dead."

Shane swallowed. "Yeah. I know."

"We're gonna have to step in if this stays in the headlines for much longer," said Eugene meaningfully, opening the door to let the others file out. "And we don't want to have to do that. Okay?"

Shane nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

The headlines. The stupid headlines. Ryan was dragging up old shit about the hospital almost everyday by now, it was infuriating. Shane moved to the window, staring out. The media could be highly irritating, but they were also flippant. They didn't care about real news. They cared about shocking news, news that could get them a profit. News about disasters. And destruction. And death. 

* * *

"Ethyl chloride, benzoin, acetone, kerosene." Sara ticked off the order list, frowning at the piles of boxes being unloaded from the truck. "I didn't know we'd ran out of so much stuff."

Helen peered at the list. "Who gave you the list?"

"Shane. So it has to be normal, right?" She watched the delivery guys carefully wheel the boxes into the building. "He never fucks up on this stuff." 

"Speaking of." Helen sat on the wall, bathing in the last bit of sun still lingering in the air. "What's he up to? He's been pretty quiet recently, hasn't he?"

"Yeah." Sara sat down beside her, looking ever so slightly worried. "He isn't telling me what he's up to. I don't know why. He usually tells me what he's doing."

"I heard the Board paid him a visit."

"Yeah. Last week. Not a long one, though." Sara paused, quiet. "He's got it in for Ryan. I think you should know."

"Of course he does." Helen kept her voice quiet. "Ryan doesn't even know that he's basically toying with Shane's life right now."

"Do you think it'd make a difference if he did know?"

She thought about this for a moment. "I honestly don't know. He's a nice person, he really is. But he's different with Shane. He won't even talk about him some days."

This was true. She'd mention the name, and Ryan would freeze up. His fists would clench, his eyes would glitter. It was unnerving. Even words that just began with 'sh' had him on edge. She didn't have a clue why, but how could she see into his mind? See that the dreams he was having on a nightly basis were beginning to really wear him away, to break him down? Always the same. Shane, all over him, fingers digging into him, painfully hard, but still not hard enough. Ryan found himself putting off going to sleep. Doing anything instead. Anything. But you can't stay awake forever. You'd go insane. 

"What do you even think about what they do?" Sara covered her eyes from the sun, squinting at Helen's face. "The Board?"

Helen looked away. "I think that my thoughts on what they do don't matter in the slightest."

"Fair." Sara scribbled distractedly on the order list. "Shane doesn't like it. He acts like he doesn't care, but he does."

Helen pulled a face. "Oh. That must be rough."

"Like, I don't like _how_ they do it, but I understand _why_ they do." She let herself give the smallest, most nervous smile. "Isn't it crazy, though? It's here, it's in Europe, it's in Asia, but right now this hospital is the brink. How Shane handles this is so important... God, I'd probably just throw myself off a bridge."

"Yeah. The stress must be insane."

* * *

Shane sat at his desk. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting, elbows on the desk, head hanging, fingers tangled in his hair. Breathe in. Breathe out. Andrew wasn't answering his phone. There was no point in ringing Steven. He was all for Ryan fucking Bergara. Gorchynski was still talking about suing the place, when she could talk. He should open the window, let in some air. It was stuffy. Claustrophobic. It was dark out. So dark. He let his head slip from his hands, resting on the desk, fingers linked behind it. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The knock on the window made him straighten back up, turning in his chair to look. He crossed to the window, knowing full well he shouldn't open it. He opened it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stepping back to let Ryan pull himself up and into the office. "It's the middle of the night."

"I saw the light was on." Ryan looked bedraggled, unshaven, shirt rumpled as if he'd tried to sleep in it. "Curiosity got the better of me."

Shane was quiet for a moment, simply watching him. "Mm. You're a very curious man, aren't you."

He turned away, sitting back down in his chair. He didn't face the desk, however. He stayed facing Ryan, feeling his pulse jump just at the look in the other man's eyes. The undeniably hungry glint. Ravenous. Shane leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath, absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers against each other, in such a manner that even  Don Corleone would be impressed. They watched each other, the silence lingering.

"Why are you here, Ryan."

"For you."

That had been his original intention. It really had. Maybe if he just screwed this guy, the nightmares would stop, and he could have his first proper night's sleep in weeks. Or maybe he just wasn't thinking straight anymore. But from where he was, he realized he could see them. He could see the keys, shining on the desk like a nugget of gold in a pile of rocks. He let his eyes flicker to them very briefly, swallowing. They were so close. Shane was lounging in his chair, head resting in his hand, a curious eyebrow raised. A lone cricket chirping away outside was the only sound.

Shane looked him up and down, his curiosity slowly turning to suspicion. “I asked you what you want, Bergara. I'd like an answer.”

“What do I want?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

_The damn keys_. He smiled down at him, hoping he appeared more innocent than he was feeling. “I want a lot of things.”

“Right.”

He paused, wondering how he could stop Shane from turning back to the desk, from possibly noticing the keys. If he could get his hands on them, if he could crack that drawer open...

“What do  _you_  want?” he asked casually, holding Shane’s gaze to try and stop him from looking at the desk.

“What do I want.”

“Yeah.”

Shane watched him warily, eyes narrowed. “I want to be alone. Really.”

“Oh. I didn’t get that impression.”

“That’s your problem, pal.”

Ryan shrugged off his coat, letting his eyes begin to wander down Shane’s body. “I kind of assumed we shared a want or two.” He chucked the coat onto the desk, covering the keys. “Well, definitely one.”

Shane didn’t reply straight away, leaning back in the chair, face remaining unreadable as Ryan moved towards him. “And which one is that.”

Ryan gripped the arms of the chair, leaning down, seeing the taller man adjusting his seating as he got closer, letting out a quiet breath. “Well, it's more of a need than a want, I think.”

Shane placed his hands on the chair, pushing himself more upright as Ryan’s eyes drifted to his mouth. “And what do you need so badly, Ryan.”

His heart skipped at the sound of his name coming from Shane's mouth.  _Don't say my name like that, you son of a bitch._  “You really want to know?”

“Mm.” He kept his gaze lowered as Ryan’s nose slipped past his, their lips hovering inches apart, breath mingling. “Yeah.”

“Good. Then I’ll show you.”

He leaned in, pressing a strong kiss to Shane’s lips, the two of them inhaling deeply as their mouths met. Shane’s hands moved up to cup Ryan’s face, pulling him in more firmly, tongues swiftly making their entrances. A low moan escaped Ryan's mouth, sending thousands of little sparks through Shane's body. He allowed Ryan to push him back against the chair, feeling the shorter man straddle him. He took hold of Ryan’s hips, pulling them forwards so that they were flush against his, their mouths still glued together, pushing against each other as their movements rapidly grew harder, heavier. But why? Why now? Shane struggled to keep any logical thoughts in his head, one of Ryan’s hands gripping his shirt collar, the other… Where was the other?

Ryan continued letting his hand search under the jacket, hoping to land on the keys, feeling Shane’s hands traveling up his chest, around the back of his neck, bucking his hips up as he pulled Ryan forwards into the rapidly-deepening kiss. Ryan paused in his search for a teeny second, just to actually appreciate the current situation. Very quickly. Just for two seconds. It wasn't quite like the dreams that had been plaguing him. It was better. He could feel everything, taste everything, hear Shane's breathy sighs echoing his own.

His eyes flew open in alarm as he felt a hand grasp his wrist, pushing it out from under the jacket, holding it up and away. They broke off in unison, staying pressed against each other. Ryan gritted his teeth in irritation, the grip tight on his wrist.

“Are you trying to steal from me?” muttered Shane, keeping a hold of Ryan’s wrist even as he tried to pull away.

Ryan stayed quiet for a moment, keeping their mouths close, their ribs sliding against each other as they breathed. “No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I think you should let go of me.”

Shane let a half-smile pull at his mouth as he unbuttoned his shirt until it was halfway down his chest. He pulled Ryan’s hand down, slipping it under the fabric, feeling the fingers instantly press into his skin.

“Amateur move, Bergara.” He placed a hand on Ryan’s lower back, rocking his hips up as he pulled him forwards to sit more firmly against him. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Ryan didn’t have time to respond before he felt the heat on his neck, Shane’s mouth starting at the small dip between his collar bones. He closed his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. His hand was still pressed against Shane’s chest, the other gripping the back of the seat over Shane's shoulder. He inhaled shakily as Shane began sucking, his tongue working against the detective’s skin, starting nice and slow. Ryan frowned as he fought to focus, eyes closed, grip tightening on the chair as he struggled not to make a sound. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not a chance. No, instead, he’d fight back.

Ryan pushed his hips forwards, hard, feeling the mouth against his neck pause for a second at the movement. He did it again, deep, feeling Shane sit more upright against him, grip tightening on his waist. Ryan bit his lip hard enough to hurt as the movement against his neck became fiercer, tilting his head aside as Shane moved up to his jaw. He felt Shane’s hand settle around the back of his neck, fingers running up through his hair, holding him in place as he continued pushing lingering kisses into his skin. The tongue against his neck grew harsher as he began to rock his hips down and forwards in a steady rhythm, his hand slipping up Shane’s chest, around his neck, their bodies writhing against each other. Still, both refused to let out the slightest whimper, even as their movements grew positively ferocious, hands grasping, clutching at each other, their breathing harsh and heavy. Their parted mouths brushed against each other, painfully teasing, hips still grinding off each other.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Shane pushed forwards, pulling Ryan firmly against him in an attempt to stop the torturous hip movement that had swiftly worked him up. Ryan sat still, arms tight around the man’s shoulders, feeling Shane’s breath hot against his neck. For a long moment, neither moved. Simply got their breath back, attempted to calm themselves, to keep their actions in check. To stay in control.

“Get out,” whispered Shane, dangerously quiet. His hands stayed firm on Ryan’s hips. “Now.”

Ryan swallowed, pushing forwards, using his body to pin Shane’s back against the seat. He rested his elbows either side of Shane’s head, their faces inches apart. The same hard glint was in both their eyes.

“And what if I don’t want to?” he said just as quietly, hoping his voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“Get.” A trembling inhale, caused by either anticipation or rage. “Out.”

Ryan pondered ignoring this order. He wanted Shane to do something. To show that he was cracking, even a tiny bit. He wanted Shane to hit him, to shout at him, to bend him over the desk and fuck him hard. Instead, he took hold of Shane’s wrists, pushing them off his hips before standing up.

“Leave the keys,” said Shane, each low word carrying a hidden threat. “And go.”

Ryan picked up his jacket. He then picked up the keys, shoving them against Shane’s still-bare chest with enough force to push him back against the chair, his head tilting back upon impact.

“I hope you fucking choke on them,” said Ryan icily, before tearing himself away, storming towards the window and slipping back out into the night.

Shane waited until the window had dropped closed before slamming a fist down on the desk hard enough for the contents to rattle, wanting to get up and just trash the place. “Fuck! Fuck you!”

He got to his feet, pacing the room, running his hands through his hair, linking his fingers on top of his head. He couldn’t seem to get his pulse under control. His thoughts either. This was getting hard. This was getting hard to steer, to keep under control. He could still feel Ryan’s hand on his chest, like a brand. And in this moment, he had no regrets about what he was going to do to the guy. Not even a little.


	7. Beg And Steal And Borrow

"You okay, man?"

Shane looked up from the mug he was just staring at, kettle in hand. Not pouring a drop. "Hm?"

Sara smiled, looking understandably concerned. "You just look a bit..." Worn out? Feral? Insane? "...tired."

She was right. He looked all of these things. Unshaven, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders constantly tense, like someone was holding a gun between them. His hair looked as if he'd spent the past week running his hands through it. Maybe he had. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied in a forcibly bright voice, his gritted teeth not quite matching his tone. "I feel fine. Fresh as a fucking daisy."

She swallowed anxiously, slowly handing over today's paper to him. Like she was holding out a match to a stick of dynamite. "I think you should read this."

He stared at it for a long moment before snatching it from her hands, turning away and crossing the room towards the window. He flicked through the pages, feeling the dread beginning to rise up in his chest at the headline. _Toxic Lady's Death Remains A Mystery_. His heart skipped ten beats as he saw the writer of said article. Steven Lim. His eyes skimmed further down.

"SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!"

Sara flinched as he suddenly flung the newspaper through the air, the pages fluttering wildly. He was breathing heavily, clutching his stomach, in a manner that made it seem he was about to see his breakfast again. 

"I'm gonna kill him." The words were harsh, sincere. "I'm gonna fucking kill him. Oh _God_ , I'm gonna- He's dead. He's fucking dead."

"Shane, cool down a second," she said in vain. "Steven is just doing-"

"Not Steven." He was already heading for the door, not sparing her a glance. "Not Steven. Not him. I know."

He may have broken the speed limit a few times on his way to the newspaper's headquarters, his car screeching to a halt outside. The entire way _he_ was on his mind. Ryan. He could just picture him, all smiles, encouraging Steven to rat him out in the damn paper. He was going to be in major trouble, he was screwed. Unless he could get Steven to retract it. He took the steps two at a time, vehemently ripping off his tie as he did so. It was too tight. He felt like he was choking. He ignored the receptionist calling him to make an appointment as he strode down the corridors, straight to Steven's little office on the corner.

"Lim." He shoved open the door, slamming it closed behind him as he went right up to the desk, where the terrified man sat. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you. Are you fucking serious."

"I- I just-"

"Do you know what that's going to do to me? To the hospital?" He was livid, his words almost shouted. "You mentioned me by name, you little dick. The family is going to be on my back again if they know I've been paying this place to keep everything quiet. Why did you fucking blab?!"

Steven swallowed. "I thought-"

"You didn't think," interrupted Shane harshly, leaning across the desk, hands pressed down on it. "You never think, Steven. But I know you didn't do it for no reason."

Steven didn't reply, staying stock still. A rabbit playing dead in front of a rabid wolf. 

Shane lowered his voice to a dangerous growl. "I know it was Ryan. I know it was that jumped-up little fucking son of a _bitch_." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, the desk still rattling slightly from his fist slamming down against it. "If I see him around here again, if I even hear you mention him, the funding for this place is gone. And I want that article retracted. I want it gone. Discredited. By tonight. Or so help me God I will run out of the very little patience I have left. Am I clear?"

Steven nodded instantly, eyes wide as he squeaked his response. "Yep. Yep. I get it."

"Are you sure you get it." Shane leaned closer, gaze intense. "Are you sure."

"Yes. Yes. Definitely."

"Look at me and say that."

Steven raised his head to look him in the eye, wondering if he'd vaporize on the spot. "I'm sure I get it."

"Good." Shane straightened back up again, eyes closed, letting out a long sigh. "I'm sorry to have to talk to you like that, but it's for your own good. Alright?"

Steven nodded, still frozen. "Alright."

He watched Shane leave, closing the door quietly behind him as he went. Unnervingly quiet. Steven pushed his chair back from his desk, waiting for a few minutes, calming his heartbeat down.

"I think he's gone."

Ryan pushed himself out from the gap under the desk, already heading for the door, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "I swear to God, I'm going to-"

"Ryan, don't!"

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Ryan paused at the door, gripping the handle, clearly fuming. "Talking to you like you're a piece of trash? He needs a good punch in the face. Now."

"Ryan, don't. You'll just make it worse." Steven got to his feet, still feeling shaken from the encounter. "Don't do anything. Just- He's right."

Ryan blinked. "He's what?!"

"I shouldn't have said anything." He looked anxious, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. "I shouldn't have. He'll rip this place apart, you don't know what he's like. Andrew and Adam will never talk to me again."

Ryan watched him panic, arms folded across his chest. "Why is he funding this place?"

Steven wandered to a halt, turning his head to look at him. "Uh... I'm not quite sure."

"What's he hiding, Steven?" Ryan watched him closely, curiously. "What's he up to?"

"I don't actually know. All I know is that it's big." 

"I need to know, dude. It's driving me insane." Ryan rubbed his tired eyes, keeping his palms pressed against them as he spoke. "I can't stop thinking about it. About what it might be. He's going to such lengths to hide it, I have to know."

He couldn't stop thinking about Shane in general, really. Their little rendezvous in his office hadn't helped with his paranoid thoughts, with his twisted nightmares that were still there. Every night. Just waiting for him to sleep, so they could creep into his head, run their fingers through his hair, whisper the words against his lips. _Look what you're doing, Ryan. How many more are you going to hurt?_ Shane's voice, always Shane's voice, low, lilting, mocking. _This is your fault, Ryan. Look at what you're doing._ Shane's hands running over him, holding his head up to look at the flames engulfing his friends, his coworkers, anyone involved. _You're mine. You're mine, Ryan_. Shane's lips on his, hotter than the fire just a few feet away. _Mine_.

"He can't do that. He can't bribe you." Ryan sighed sharply, running a hand back through his hair, the other one on his hip. "That's literally illegal. I should just go down there and-"

"And explain that you're basically doing the same thing?" Steven shook his head, a stiff smile on his face. "Shane doesn't play like that. You play clean, he'll play dirty, and he'll win. That's always how it happens."

Ryan leaned back against the door, taking a deep breath. "I need to catch him out. I need to get those keys."

"Keys?"

"He has these keys that are literally always on him. They open a drawer in his desk." Ryan's eyes were distant, distracted. "There has to be something in that drawer. There has to be."

"Like what?"

"Something that he really, _really_ doesn't want me to get my hands on." Ryan opened the door, giving him a small smile. "I won't ask anymore from you or Andrew, alright? But if Madej gives you trouble, come to me."

Steven looked at him. "And what'll you do?"

"Sort him out." 

Ryan shut the door after him, phone in hand. Steven was right. Shane was playing dirty, but he was playing smart. Legally dubious, but nothing solid that Ryan could catch him out on. Moving everyone and everything like they were simple pawns on a chess board. Oh, someone got hurt? That's okay, they were just a pawn. At least the king piece is still safe. Standing firm, secure, safe. And frankly, Ryan was getting sick of chess. It was high time to wipe the board and put his fist right through it. He dialed Kelsey's number, stopping in the center of the hallway as his phone buzzed before he could even ring her. He swallowed, oblivious to the people pushing past him as he raised the phone to his ear.

"...What."

"My office." He sounded just as furious as he had ten minutes ago. "Now."

Ryan paused. "I'm busy. I'll pop by when I can."

"Ryan don't you fucking dare hang up on me." 

Ryan hesitated, about to do exactly that. "I said I'm busy right now. I do have a job, you know. Sorry for any inconvenience caused."

"I will come and I will _find_ you, Ryan." Shane sounded like he was driving, which thankfully meant he'd left the building. "And I'll- I'll-"

"I'll come by in an hour," replied Ryan coolly before hanging up, pressing the phone against his forehead as he leaned against the wall. "Shit."

* * *

He slotted the last book into the shelf, standing back with his hands on his hips. Yeah, the shelves actually did look better with books stacked high. Not that they'd be around for much longer, but it didn't matter. Shane wandered along the shelves, letting a finger trace along the paper spines, his mind wandering. This was happening a lot recently. His mind never used to wander. He used to have it on a tight leash, under his control, where it belonged. But it was harder now. He couldn't stop thinking. About him. The taste of him on his lips, the fierceness, the hunger, the heat. The sound of, the _feeling_ of his moans right into his mouth, almost tearing whatever self-control he had left to pieces. Shane sat back down at his desk, a hand clutching his stomach, like he could rip out the furious cluster of anger, of fear, of panic that swirled inside. He wished the breeze coming in through the window was cooling, calming. But it was a stuffy night, humid and heavy. He wanted to bite down on something and just scream. He couldn’t go on like this, not for much longer. He was cracking, he could feel it. And it was a feeling he absolutely detested.

A light knocking on the door, Sara popping her head in. "Hey- Oh, wow! You got books in? Did your laptop break?"

He was quiet for a moment, reigning his thoughts back in. "Uh, no. It's nothing. What's up?"

"Oh, you ordered a surplus of some stuff." She looked at the list in her hand. "Kerosene, acetone, ethyl chloride, benzoin, and some cyclopropane."

"Just leave the boxes in here. I'll return them." He got to his feet, moving towards her, keeping his voice low. "Look, Bergara has his eyes on the drawer. I need to get rid of the stuff in it."

"Can't you just bin it?"

"Nah. Too risky. If a stupid child stuck their hand into the trash and yanked out Ramirez's original autopsy, this would all go up in flames." He clicked his fingers. "Boom."

She frowned. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well I was going to wait until this blew over, then just burn it." He shrugged. "But this isn't blowing over quite as easily as I thought."

"Because of Ryan."

His jaw clenched at the name, a bitter smile flickering across his mouth. "Bingo."

"Yeah, Helen told me he's onto you. He knows something's off."

Shane rested a hand across his eyes, exhaling sharply. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

She waited for him to continue. He didn't. "You sort out Steven?"

"Yeah." He suddenly turned away, looking up at the sprinkler in the ceiling. "Hey, when was the last time these were checked?"

Sara frowned. "Uh, I don't know. Probably too long ago, to be honest."

"Right." He dragged a chair over underneath, stepping up onto it. Not that he needed a lot of help to reach it. "I'm just gonna check everything. You heading home now?"

She nodded, still frowning. Jeez, this whole thing really must be cracking him up. "Yeah. Yeah, it's late, I'm gonna head off. I'm back in at midnight, though." She rolled her eyes. "Yay for night shifts."

"Cool." He didn't look at her as he unscrewed the top of the sprinkler, peering at it. "See you tomorrow."

He heard the door close a few long seconds later, hopping down off the chair, heading over to his desk and searching for the small letter opener he kept on it. He didn't use it that much. He just thought it was neat. Letter opener in hand, he got back onto the chair, a hand pressed to the ceiling to keep his balance as he jammed the thin end into the sprinkler.

"C'mon," he muttered, twisting it a bit. "C'mon, just-" The single loud knock on the door made him turn his head, but he stayed up on the chair, letter opener wedged in the sprinkler. "Yes?"

He let his arms fall back to his sides as Ryan stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Shane stared at him. Ryan stared back. Their facial expressions were almost exactly the same; a stony, icy glare. Shane stepped down off the chair, hitting the ground walking. 

"An hour, huh?" 

Ryan shrugged. "I said I was busy."

"You've been busy for six hours, have you?" Shane stopped just in front of him, forcing the shorter man to back up against the door. "You're lucky I didn't come down to the station and drag you out by your damn tie."

Ryan held his gaze as the letter opener pushed under his chin, tilting his head back. "I think that sometimes you forget who you're talking to."

Shane gave him a withering look. "Oh, you're going to arrest me, are you?"

"Maybe I will."

"Sure." Shane stepped back, striding back to his desk, chucking the small blade onto it. "I've had it up to here, Bergara. I really have."

"Well me too."

"My 'up to here' is a considerable amount more than yours." He stood with his arms folded, watching Ryan stroll further into the room. "I've given you a few opportunities to back off. And although your blind determination is admirable, it's also irritating as fuck. So here's the deal. I-"

"I don't want a deal," replied Ryan lightly. 

Shane stared at him. "You don't want a deal."

"Nah. I think I'm good." He came to a halt at the opposite end of the desk, hands on his hips. "What I want are those keys."

"For fuck's- You're not getting the keys." Shane made a cutting motion with his hand as he spoke, signifying an end to the line of conversation. "They're mine. They're my keys."

"You're very possessive, aren't you." 

He was quiet for a moment. "I won't deny it."

"Why is that?" Ryan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What has you so controlling, hm?"

"Controlling?"

"Yeah. Controlling." 

"It's part of my job, Ryan." He held his gaze, letting a small smile play across his mouth. "A part of my job that I like."

"Yeah. I got that." He raised an eyebrow, staying a safe distance away. "So how are you feeling?"

Shane's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm guessing you don't really give a fuck how I'm feeling, and that that question has some, uh, edge to it somewhere."

"Well, you love being in control, right?" Ryan began wandering towards him, arms folded across his chest. "So how does it feel to be losing it?"

The taller man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm not."

"You're looking a bit tired, Madej." Ryan came to a slow halt in front of him, their eyes still locked. "A bit worn out. A bit _stressed_. Are you feeling stressed?"

Shane gave a dry laugh. "Well, I think it's very funny that you have the cheek to tell me that _I'm_ the one who looks stressed."

"I feel fine," replied Ryan, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

"You know, I actually like it when you look like shit." Shane lightly placed his fingers under the shorter man's chin, feeling the stubble scratch them as he tilted the man's head up to look directly at him. "It suits you."

Ryan's eyes drifted down to the taller man's mouth, his own lips parting slightly. Was this another one of his nightmares? Was he asleep right now? Was the office going to go up in flames? Was Shane going to step closer, lean down, kiss him hard, set him alight? He rested a hand on Shane's chest, feeling the warmth, the solidness under his fingers. No, this was real. He was pretty certain it was real, anyway. He inhaled sharply as Shane suddenly took a firmer hold of his jaw, pulling him forwards, flush against him. Ryan's hands automatically grabbed hold of his waist for balance, his head tilted right back so that Shane could look directly into his eyes. He swallowed, feeling Shane adjust himself more firmly against him.

"I know you told Steven to write that article," he muttered, feeling the shorter man's hands tighten on his waist. "I know it was you. And I wasn't happy about it."

"Good. I didn't do it to make you happy." Ryan suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down so that their faces were inches apart. "And if you ever talk to Steven like that again I'll kick your ass."

Shane appeared unfazed, looking down his nose at him. "And how do you know the tone in which I spoke to our mutual friend?"

They still had a hold of each other, Shane's hand clamped on Ryan's jaw, Ryan with a fistful of Shane's shirt in his hand. Neither of them stepped away, or backed down, or even broke eye contact. Shane's gaze flickered up and down the shorter man's face, teeth gritted. It was a face that he'd first found simply good-looking. Cute. But now it was also the bane of his life. He was sick of seeing it. He wanted to punch it, or kiss it, both, one after the other. He let out a quiet breath, his eyes drifting down to Ryan's mouth.

"I was there," replied Ryan with a small smile. "I heard."

"Hiding under a piece of dust, were you?"

"His desk."

"Well, Ryan," said Shane quietly, somewhat roughly maneuvering the shorter man back against the desk, with only some resistance. "I didn't know you were so scared of me."

"A jumped-up little son of a bitch, isn't that what you called me?" Ryan's smile was wide, mischievous. "I must be really getting on your nerves."

"Since I first laid eyes on you."

"How romantic."

"I'll admit it, Ryan. You're a challenge." He allowed the shorter man to sit up on the desk, pushing the bits and pieces aside as he did so. "You're keeping me sharp. I appreciate it."

"Glad I can be of service." 

He pulled Ryan forwards against him, feeling the shorter man's legs either side of his hips. "And what, uh, _services_ would you provide for these, hm?"

Ryan's smile slipped slightly as Shane lifted his hand, the keys hanging around his finger, resting against his palm. "Nothing that you're thinking of."

"Oh don't be like that." Shane dangled them right in front of his face, smiling at the burning curiosity in the other man's big eyes. "C'mon. Take them off me."

Ryan's gaze flickered between the keys and Shane's eyes. Considering. Judging. Would he be quick enough if he did just try to grab them? And if he did, what would happen? Shane wouldn't just step aside and let Ryan open the drawer. And what if the keys weren't even for the drawer? What if Shane's just toying with him at literally every turn? No, he wouldn't go for them. Not now. He just had to be patient. He had to play dirty.

Ryan pushed the keys aside, his hand slipping around Shane's neck, pulling him down into a hard kiss. Shane leaned forwards against him, hands landing on the desk behind Ryan, their mouths slotting together. Familiarizing themselves to something they should most definitely not get familiar with. Yet was happening too often now. Too often to be safe. They were quite literally playing with fire, both almost holding the capability to raze the other's life to ash. Almost, but not quite. Not yet, anyway. Shane let the shorter man run his hands over him, exploring him, beginning to undo his shirt to get a better idea.

"Don't be mistaken here, Ryan," muttered the taller man, breaking off. "I'm still going to ruin your entire life. I'm gonna bring you to your knees, and chug a beer while doing it."

"My entire life?" Ryan rolled his eyes, pausing halfway down the buttons. "No need to get so dramatic."

"There's every need." Shane slipped the keys back into his pocket, seeing the spark in Ryan's eyes at the sound of them rattling. "Is this going to become a regular thing?"

Ryan glanced up at him. "Is what going to become a regular thing?"

"Coming by my office so late at night. With _so_ many excuses."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. He couldn't. He couldn't admit that the only reason he was actually there at all was because he couldn't sleep anymore. Because Shane had his claws in deep. Painfully deep. His earlier phone call to Kelsey had been the first time he'd properly talked to her in days. Andrew was avoiding him, and even Steven was beginning to grow reluctant to get involved in this shitstorm. He was beginning to distance himself from his only allies, even Helen. Although he'd only met her at the beginning of all this. She was a medical detective at the end of the day, not a regular one. No, the one person who was a constant now was Shane. Always there, always watching his every move, keeping track of him like a hunter does a deer. It was crushing him.

"You're anxious about something." Shane placed a hand on the side of his face, fingers running back through his hair, holding him in place. "I love it. I love how it looks on you."

Ryan went to duck his head aside, gritting his teeth as Shane simply held him in place. "Well do you want to know what I think would look good on you?"

Shane gave a small smile. "Mm. Sure."

"A broken nose."

"Don't make me laugh at you, Ryan." He raised an eyebrow slightly, pausing to mutter a few words as he leaned down. "You lay a finger on me and I'll get you fired before you can say 'boo'."

Ryan closed his eyes as he let the taller man pick up where they left off, feeling Shane's fingers dig into his back, pulling him firm against him. Their tongues brushed, mouths glued together, Ryan settling his arms around the taller man's neck as the slick movements grew downright aggressive, each heavy breath carrying low moans with it. Each kiss was a competition, a battle, both literally and figuratively. Each encounter was a fight for control, for dominance, a fight neither wanted to lose. So they had to  _make_  each other want to lose. They had to make the other simply not be able to stand it any longer. They had to bring the other to their knees. Shane suddenly turned away, crossing to his office door, locking it. Not that anyone else was probably hanging around the hospital at half eleven at night. Just the few night staff. He had barely turned back around when Ryan was on him again, pressing him back against the door, running hungry kisses down his neck, pulling open his shirt to continue down his chest. Shane rested his head back against the door, eyes squeezed shut, very much unwilling to show how good it felt, hands pressed to the bookshelves either side of the door.

He suddenly grabbed a fistful of the shorter man's dark hair, yanking his head back to look him in the eye. "Why are you here."

Ryan smiled through his panted breaths. "Oh, because I just love spending time with you, of course."

"You're up to something. I know you are."

"Oh, you _know_ me now, do you?"

Shane smiled almost fondly, only almost. "And do you think you know me?"

Ryan's hand lightly traced up along his open shirt collar, continuing on to rest against his neck. "I know what you want."

"Are you trying to _Red Sparrow_ me here, Bergara?" He began walking the shorter man backwards, not taking his eyes from his, watching Ryan flinch slightly as he came up against the bookshelf. So he _was_ nervous. He just wasn't showing it. "You know my _desires_ , do you? My secrets? My weaknesses?"

Ryan lowered his gaze, tilting his head back as he felt the hand slip around his throat. Soft. For now. "I think all three of them are one and the same, Shane."

"Oh, do you." Shane let his grip tighten, Ryan's hands grabbing his shoulder, his wrist. He could hear the shorter man's shaky breaths, feel them against his mouth. "Then go ahead. Lay it on me, Ryan."

Ryan didn't reply, swallowing as the taller man's lips hovered dangerously close to his.

"Tell me, Ryan." He could feel the man's pulse racing under his fingers. "Tell me what I desire. Tell me what my weakness is. Since you know me so well."

"Me."

Shane was quiet for a long moment, searching the shorter man's eyes. He could feel the fiery anger rising up in him, spreading through him, the type of anger that only this little fuck could elicit. Because he was right. He was right. Ryan was his weakness right now. The one aspect in his life that he had very little control over. The loose cannon that could blow this whole thing to pieces if he kept going. Yet Shane still wanted him. He hated the challenge, but he loved it. And he wanted to take it, he wanted to beat it, come out on top. To win. 

Shane leaned in with a furious kiss, taking all of half a minute to have Ryan pinned up against the shelves, legs around Shane's waist, the shorter man kissing him back with frightening intensity, oblivious to the books fluttering to the ground as they grabbed and clutched and clawed. Shane grabbed hold of the shelf beside Ryan's head in a painfully tight grip, nails digging into the wood as he smothered Ryan's neck in vicious kisses, hearing the erratic moans, Ryan's hands dragging down his back, hurting even through the shirt. 

“I just think,” began Ryan, eyes still closed as he concentrated on getting the words out in a comprehensive manner, his voice breathless. “It’s funny how you’re acting like you’re so in control…” He felt Shane pause, listening to his words. “…but you’re doing exactly what I want you to do.”

The silence was more of a warning than any siren could’ve been. Shane suddenly stepped back, letting Ryan drop back to the ground, a hand still tight around the shorter man’s throat as he shoved him back against the shelves, which were now littered with fallen books. He ignored the hands gripping his wrist, the warning spark in Ryan’s eyes as he looked up at him. The spark he wanted to fan into a blazing inferno. But not now. Soon.

“Don’t start overestimating yourself, Ryan,” he said quietly, before suddenly shoving the shorter man away as he forced himself to walk back towards the door. “That’s all I’m gonna say.”

Ryan stayed where he was, eyes closed, hearing the door being unlocked. His heart was still racing in his chest, the taste of Shane in his mouth. It was like a fever dream. He opened his eyes, glancing out the window. Yeah, it was definitely dark enough now. He only hoped Kelsey would stick to the plan. 

"The unlocked door is a sign for you to leave, Bergara." Shane was staying a safe distance away, his hands balling into fists, then relaxing, then doing it again, then relaxing. They wanted Ryan back in their grip. But no, Shane wouldn't give in. Losing control of other things could be fixed, could be reigned in. But losing control of yourself? That's when you lose control of everything. "So leave."

With a deep breath, Ryan straightened up, heading for the door. "What's the closest you've ever come to losing this whole thing, Shane?"

The taller man leaned back against his desk, a hand either side, where Ryan had been sitting only fifteen minutes ago. "I think you know."

He smiled, knowing he shouldn't feel quite so satisfied as he did at those words. "And what's it going to be like when you actually lose, hm?"

"Ryan." A sharp laugh, a shake of the head. "Oh, Ryan. You don't need to worry about that."

"You're right." He opened the door, flashing him a quick grin. "I'll be finding out soon enough."

"Look at me."

Ryan paused in the doorway at the cutting voice, looking back over his shoulder at him. "What."

"I want to make it very clear that I would burn this damn place to the ground before I'd ever let you win." Shane's voice was quiet, but sincere. "I really want you to understand that."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. He wasn't sure how to. "Goodnight, Shane."

"Mm. Is it?"

* * *

Sara had just come back for her night shift when she heard him. Then she saw him, barrelling past her, the blood dripping from his nose to join the drops dotted on the front of his shirt.

"Shane?!" She immediately began running after him, straight to his office. "Shane, what the hell happened to you?"

He ignored her, oblivious to her presence as he skidded to a halt against his desk, peering over it. His yelled curse made her flinch, backing through the doorway as he suddenly swiped everything off his desk in one furious swipe.

"GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!" He seemed to not care about the dark blood still dripping from his nose as he paced back and forth, his fists tangled in his hair. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK."

Sara watched him with wide eyes, unsure of whether or not to ask what happened. She'd seen him angry before, but it was usually icy, cool, controlled. She'd never seen him like this; fiery, explosive. He hadn't even looked at her yet.

"Shane, wh-"

"Get Helen," he suddenly demanded, taking out his own phone anyway. "Get Helen, I want his address. I want his fucking address."

"What ha-"

"He got into the fucking drawer, Sara." It was open. Empty. 

Okay, now she understood why he was so insanely angry. "What?! How?"

"Got some fucking police buddies to fucking _mug_ me, that's what." He was still pacing, breathing heavily. "One second it's a random search, next it's my face against the fucking bonnet and the keys fucking taken off me they fucking-" He cut himself off, lifting up his shirt to bury his face in it as he simply screamed. 

Sara watched in silence as he leaned on the blank desk, head hanging, shoulders frozen. "...the Board. If this-"

"They'll fucking kill me, Sara. I know." He didn't turn around, his hands clenching into fists against the desk. "Get me his address. Get me it."

"What are you going to-"

"I'm going to go to him," said Shane, each word stiff with anger, as if he was restraining himself from shouting them. "And I'm going to show him that he crossed the line. And I'm going to take the line, sharpen it to a nice fine point, and put it through his fucking neck."

Sara swallowed, sending off a quick text to Helen. She didn't have anything against Ryan, not really. But since what they were hiding wasn't exactly ethical in the first place, there was no point in applying ethics to any of it at all. Her phone pinged almost instantly. She held it out for Shane to read, watching him wipe away some of the blood from his nose with the back of his wrist as he did so. Then he stepped around her, heading off down the corridor, still muttering to himself.

Sara let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, deciding to distract herself by picking up the books that had fallen off the shelves for some reason. Shane was going to kill the guy, and this time for real. She knew it. It was either his life or Ryan's, really. She crossed over to the window, picking her way through the boxes of substances to be returned. She closed it, standing in the silence for a long moment. 

This was going to end in flames.


	8. Lost Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this gets violent duh.. is there an emoji that half-winky face, half-knife emoji
> 
> also some people die... minor characters (?) but major players but yeah just to let u know

_Bang bang bang bang bang_.

Ryan lifted his gaze from the papers in front of him, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on his desk. He couldn't believe what he was seeing really.

 _Bang bang bang_. "Ryan, open the fucking door!"

The blood samples, the original autopsy showed so many different chemicals in her blood it was stunning. The letter from Livermore, folded up all nice and neat, straight from the receptionist. The records of the people who had entered the building that night; Cupido had been in, he'd known right from the start what had happened to Ramirez. There were even tapes, what Ryan could only guess was CCTV from the night. Literally everything was a cover. Everything.

"Ryan Bergara, open the damn door!" _Bang bang bang bang!_ "RYAN!"

Ryan put the pages down, taking his gun off the desk as he moved through his apartment to the door. He kept it on safety, wondering if he'd actually have to use it. Hopefully the guy would just back down once he saw it. He jumped as the hinges rattled under another thump, Shane's enraged voice joining it.

"Open it, you coward!"

Like he was opening a box of angry wasps, Ryan opened the door, holding the gun out. "What the fuck are you doing with-"

In a display of total irrational bravado, Shane simply took hold of the gun, yanking it out of Ryan's grip and flinging it behind him. Ryan's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, the door slamming shut as Shane stepped in, gaze locked on the shorter man's. The front of his shirt was still stained with blood from his nose.

"You lying scheming little bastard." Shane's hand was tight around his throat, forcing him backwards, in a way that had Ryan's blood pumping double-time. "Did you read them. Have you read them yet."

"Get off me." Ryan dug his feet into the carpet, skidding a bit before coming to a halt. His hands gripped the taller man's wrist, teeth gritted. "Get-"

"You think you could just do that to me?" Shane gave him a sharp shove, sending him stumbling back a few feet, almost off-balance. "You think you could get your little pals to fucking rob me and you'd get away with it?"

"Don't push me again," said Ryan shakily, unable to tell whether his voice trembled from rage or from fear. "Don't."

"Or what?" Shane loomed over him, fists clenched by his sides. "What'll you do, pal?" He gave him another fierce push, Ryan's jaw clenching as he stumbled another step. "You won't do shit."

"Shane."

"Did you read what you stole from me," demanded Shane, his gaze flickering to the lamp on the desk just a few feet behind Ryan, the pages scattered on it. "Oh, you have. Well that's just too bad for you."

It was dark, but for the lamplight. But that was all Ryan needed to see the glint of the needle in Shane's hand, full of a liquid that Ryan had absolutely no intention of letting near him. And although Shane was physically more imposing, Ryan was a cop, with basic training in physical conflict. And it was time to use it. _You're smaller, Ryan. He has more reach. So- So- What are you supposed to do again? Fuck_. He decided to just go for it, stepping forwards, swinging hard and fast.

The needle dropped to the floor as Shane doubled over, coughing for breath, stumbling against the desk for balance, the air forced from his lungs. "Fucking-"

Ryan went for the needle still shining on the floor. A stupid decision, really. Shane's hand lashed out, tangling in his dark hair, dragging him back. Shane's other arm slipped around his neck, painfully tight, yanking him upright, the tips of the shorter man's sneakers just about touching the carpet. Cursing, Ryan drove an elbow behind him as hard as he could, catching the taller man in the ribs. They fell against the desk, still locked together. With a sudden rush of inspiration from the past, Shane kept one arm around Ryan's neck, grabbing his side with the other. Digging his thumb into his back. Just below his ribs.

"AaaaAAAAAH!" Ryan writhed furiously, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clawing behind him. "STOP!"

Shane ignored him, arm tightening around his neck, pulling him upright as he increased the pressure of his hold. "You did this, Ryan! Not me!"

"LET GO!" Ryan let out another agonized scream, his hands back over his head to hook around Shane's neck, fingers frozen. "FUCKING LET GO!"

Shane did so, with a lot more force than necessary. Ryan stumbled against the desk, dropping to his knees, a hand clutching his side as he panted for breath. He made himself crawl for the needle, not quite making it before Shane nonchalantly kicked it further away. 

"I gave you so many god damn opportunities to just walk away, Ryan! I tried to help you!" He towered over him, not exactly sounding as sympathetic as the words themselves did. "I told you to back off. I _told_ you."

"Fuck you!" Ryan suddenly pushed himself forwards, catching the taller man with a hard tackle, the two of them landing heavily in a furious tangle. "Fuck you, you fucking fuck!"

Shane struck him hard across the face, getting a punch back twice as hard. They fought like feral animals, rolling across the floor, coming to a sudden halt against the desk, Shane on top, punching and clawing and then they were kissing. Shane hadn’t even noticed it happening. One second they’d been snarling curses at each other, threats, insults, and now they were really going at it, their furious shouts turned to furious moans, fingers still interlocked, their bodies still fighting each other despite the fact their mouths were working with such a fierce passion it was frightening. Ryan attempted to break off to catch his breath, Shane not giving him the option as he simply pressed his lips to Ryan’s again, feeling the other man’s heart thumping against his chest.

“You can’t- This isn’t-” Ryan gave up trying to object as Shane’s mouth found his again, nose pressing into his cheek with the pressure of the kiss. His hands scrambled to try and hold anything that wasn’t Shane, one finding the handle of a drawer over his head, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t rip it off, the other dragging across Shane's shoulders. “ _Fuck_.”

Shane was all over him, unrelenting, keeping him pinned underneath him, literally no escape. Ryan gritted his teeth as Shane grabbed hold of his wrists, pushing savage kisses under his jaw, hard enough to push Ryan’s head backwards against the rough carpet. Ryan’s foot landed against the desk, the wood creaking as it was forcibly moved, his other leg folded over Shane’s.

His own shuddering moan caught him completely off-guard, Shane’s mouth making its way steadily up his throat, towards his chin. He gave a sudden burst of struggle, Shane’s hands tightening on his wrists, holding them in place. Ryan bucked his hips up, trying to unsettle the taller man. He didn’t quite succeed. Shane moved his hands to grab hold of the shorter man’s hips, forcing them back down to the floor, pushing Ryan’s legs apart so that he could fit between them. Their mouths parted, both panting for breath as they readjusted their positions, eyes still closed, lips still brushing. Ryan's mouth stayed open, inhaling sharply as he tilted his head back, feeling Shane's tongue against the side of his neck, teeth grazing his skin in a kiss that was half-starved, making his head spin.

“Fuck you,” panted Ryan, feeling the lips part against the curve of his throat to let out a bitter laugh. “God  _damnit_ , fuck you!”

In a sudden burst of movement, Shane grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up off the floor, throwing him back on the bed just beside them. Ryan propped himself up on his elbows, watching the taller man yank his tie off over his head, flinging it aside before climbing on top of him. Shane let the shorter man flip their positions, wanting nothing else but to hear Ryan's breathless gasps, pained moans, desperately quiet sighs.

Ryan sat astride him, upright, pulling Shane up with him. He felt Shane's hands resting on his waist, moving around to his back, keeping him steady as he began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open. His hands gripped Shane's shoulders as the taller man pulled Ryan forwards against him, pressing his mouth against his stomach in a hungry kiss, his hands slipping under Ryan's open shirt. Ryan tangled his hands in Shane's hair as he felt a other fierce kiss against his abdomen, closing his eyes, biting down hard on his lip to stop himself from making any noise. Shane's hands pushed up along his back, gripping his shoulders tightly, feeling the fingers grasping his hair harder as he ran his lips lightly up Ryan's stomach, breathing heavy breaths against his skin.

"How do you do this to me," mumbled Shane against his skin, eyes closed. He slipped his hands behind Ryan's thighs, adjusting them more firmly either side of him. "Tell me."

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, a panting moan escaping before any words could. He cut himself off, but not before he felt Shane's mouth curl into a smile against his skin. He chose not to reply, gritting his teeth as Shane's lips and nose grazed back down towards his belt, beard scratching him.

"How badly do you want this, Ryan?" Shane spared a quick glance up at him, almost able to see, to hear the racing heart in the other man's chest. "I'd really-" A kiss. "-love-" Another kiss, soft, lingering. "-to know." This time he introduced the tongue, concentrating on the sensitive area just above his belt.

"Fuck." Ryan was panting for breath, feeling the mouth working against his skin, running along above his belt. "Fuck- Fuck you. God, _fuck_." His grip tightened in Shane's hair, pulling the man forwards as he pressed against him.

He felt Shane's fingers dig into his back, holding Ryan in place as he continued smothering him in harsh, hungry kisses, teeth grazing his skin, leaving a sign. Marking his territory. Their panted moans echoed each other. Without realizing what he was doing, Shane rolled to the side, taking Ryan with him, pinning him down to the bed. He made his way back up the shorter man's body, kiss by kiss, feeling Ryan writhing under him, hands still gripping Shane's thick hair. He stopped at Ryan's lips, pausing for a moment, mouth still open as he breathed heavily.

Ryan's voice was quiet, his eyes watching Shane's face. "Who wants this more?"

The taller man didn't reply, finally lifting his gaze to meet Ryan's. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, so heated that it could've gone up in flames at any second. Shane lowered himself against Ryan's body, pressing a kiss to his lips, their mouths fitting together _,_ fighting for control. Ryan heard an almost irritated mumble from the other man, Shane trying to break off, failing miserably as Ryan simply pulled him closer.

"You can't do what you came here to do," said Ryan quietly, before pressing a soft kiss against the side of the taller man's face. "You can't." Another lingering kiss, closer to his mouth. "You want me too much."

"I want you," said Shane just as quietly, pressing closer. "Because you're mine."

"I- I'm not. I'm not yours."

"You haven't been thinking about me constantly then, no?" Shane paused for a moment to satisfy his sudden urge to taste him, to feel him against his tongue, Ryan's arms pulling him further in. "I can see it, Ryan. In your face. I'm your life now, just as much as you're mine."

"No." Ryan shook his head, promptly realizing that he couldn't remember what he was like before all this started. What did he do on a daily basis? What was he like before Shane? How long had this whole thing even been going on for? Days, weeks, months? "No, that's not true."

"You're mine, Ryan." He let his mouth trail kisses along the shorter man's jaw, drinking in the clear panic he could see on Ryan's face. "And I'm not letting you go."

"No, stop." Ryan shoved at him, unable to control his breathing, his pulse. "That's not true. I'm not- You don't-"

"Shut up." He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, an ominous feeling creeping over him as he took it out. "I..."

Ryan watched as the color drained from the other man's face, Shane sitting back, wide eyes glued to the phone. He didn't answer. It kept buzzing.

"Did you tell anyone?" Shane didn't take his eyes from his phone, a look on his face like he'd been told when, where, and how he was going to die. "Did you tell anyone about what you found?"

Ryan wondered whether or not it was a good idea to tell him. "Yes. I told Kelsey and Helen. So there's no point in-"

"You idiot." Shane basically spat the words as he got to his feet, turning away as he answered the phone. "...Hi, Curly."

"Oh hiiii, Shane." His voice was gushy, overflowing with insincere pity. "Um, yeah, so you messed up. Helen told us it's out."

Shane swallowed, feeling Ryan's eyes on him. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"You know what that means, right?" He was talking as if telling a child their dog was in doggy heaven, just to avoid saying the dog was actually a pancake out on the driveway. "We're on our way, so like, so sorry."

Shane was quiet for a long moment. "I'll meet you in my office."

"Fab! See you then."

Ryan flinched as the taller man suddenly flung the phone across the room with enough force to dent the wall. "Hey, watch it!"

"This is all your fault." Shane moved towards him again, Ryan scrambling off the bed to stand upright, fists clenched. "I should've just... I should've..." He wandered to a halt, gaze distant as his thoughts continued racing. "I should just..."

"What?" Ryan stayed a safe distance, so tense it was almost painful. He didn't like the silence. The silence was worse than the shouting. "What should you do?"

Shane stared at him, a look on his face like he'd just discovered the meaning of life. "You're right. I can't do what I came here to do."

He turned away, heading for the door, the adrenaline rushing through him at the simple thought of what he was about to cause. He'd been doing what they said for too long now. And he'd questioned it. He'd questioned them. Their way of running things. He could do it better. He could do it better than any of them. And how often does one get all their enemies together in one place?

"Where are you going?" Ryan grabbed his arm, yanking him back, the dread in his chest threatening to burst forwards in the form of either rage or tears. "Tell me!"

"What I'm about to do is your fault, Ryan." His eyes were shining, bordering on crazed. "I want you to remember that."

"What are you going to do?" shouted Ryan, shaking him hard. "Fucking tell me!"

Shane suddenly grabbed his face, pulling him forwards into a desperately passionate kiss, inhaling deeply. He broke off, looking at Ryan's face, at his closed eyes, his hands resting on Shane's. "Just know that it was intended for you. And remember that."

* * *

Sara felt prickles all over her. Chills. Literal shivers. _Evacuate_. What the hell did that mean? What was he trying to say? She read the text again, still feeling uneasy, almost ill. _Evacuate_. Evacuate what? The hospital? Just her? Was it an accidental text? She stopped in the corridor, turning back to look down the dark hallway towards his office. She'd just let the Board in, a bit reluctantly, but she had to. She knew that this was how it had to happen. It was the only way to keep the research quiet, to keep the media off the trail, to keep their work safe. _Evacuate_. God, she wished he'd specified even a little bit. But even though it was ominous, it gave her a tiny bit of hope. Hope that Shane wasn't going to go out as easy as all the others had. She continued walking, sending back a quick text.

_Evacuate what?_

He replied almost instantly.

_:)_

Okay, now she was terrified. She hurried to the opposite side of the hospital, the side that was still working, the side still filled with patients. She passed the message to any doctors, nurses, any medical residents along the way. Start moving the patients. They didn't ask questions. They probably thought it was the Board that gave the order. Really, she shouldn't even be talking to Shane anymore, let alone listening to him. But she liked him. And she didn't want him to get murked like the rest of them had. He had life to him, a bit of pizzazz. Him and that detective. Oh, she knew there was something going on there. Something more than just two guys being dudes. She'd have to be blind _and_ deaf not to see how they acted around each other.

She wondered if Shane had actually managed to kill the guy. It wasn't like him to go and take care of this stuff personally, but he was acting different this time around. Crazier. More unstable. More... more combustible. She only hoped he wouldn't go too far. But in the situation he was in, was there even a limit to how far you can go?

* * *

"I still don't think you should've told him." Eugene wandered along the bookshelves, the dry paper rough under his fingers, like kindling. "Madej's wily. Smart."

"Yet he was outsmarted." Quinta sat at Shane's desk, feet kicked up on it. "Pull it a bit more to the right, Keith."

He pulled the white plastic along the floor. "Like here?"

"Yeah. Just don't want his blood to be left around. It's a nice office."

"Yeah, seeing Shane's blood and brains wouldn't be too encouraging for the next guy, would it?" Ned laughed brightly. "What's his name again? Bront?"

"Something like that."

"I'll tell you one thing, guys." Zach straightened back up again, giving one of the boxes under the window a light kick. "I wouldn't go lighting a cigarette up around here."

"Hm?" Eugene frowned at him, beginning to feel a tiny bit uneasy. "Why?"

"These boxes are essentially TNT, that's why!" He pointed at one of them. "That's cyclopropane, dude. Basically gasoline."

Curly rolled his eyes. "The guy clearly isn't that smart, then. What idiot would leave so much flammable shit around his office?"

"I actually need some kerosene," said Keith with a shrug, heading over to the boxes under the open window, pulling one open. "Yeah, nice."

Eugene glanced around the office, noticing how the boxes were piled all along the sides, under the bookshelves, behind the door. "How long has it been since you called Madej?"

Curly shrugged. "I don't know. An hour?"

Ned joined Keith at the boxes, pulling open the one filled with cartons of ethyl chloride. "Yeah, I'll nab some stuff too."

"Eugene, what's up?" Quinta frowned at him. "You're looking a bit stressed. Which you never do, really."

"Just, where the hell is he?" Eugene opened the door, peering into the dark, empty corridor, looking up and down. "I don't like this. Has he text any of you?"

"Look, he's coming to his own execution, basically." Curly raised his eyebrows. "Give him some time."

Eugene turned back, his reply getting stuck in his throat at the tall figure standing in the window. "Fuck!"

The scratch, the whoosh of the match lighting up had them all spinning to face him, the flame illuminating his sharp features. With a little flick, Shane simply chucked it into the open box beneath him.

* * *

Ryan saw the explosion, felt it even from his car. He slammed the breaks, eyes widening at the burst of light that came from the side of the hospital. No. No, no, he wouldn't, how? How would he? How _could_ he? And why?!

He scrambled from his car, already hearing the fire alarms beginning to scream, the half of the hospital that was still open already panicking, spilling into the parking lot. Just like the first night. Ryan put his phone to his ear, sprinting down the empty side road towards the fire, hearing another ground-shaking explosion, the flames climbing higher, smoke rolling into the air, visible even in the night sky. Then he saw him. Standing on the grass, facing the flames, hands in his pockets. His tall frame was silhouetted against the fiery rubble that had been his office, his flickering shadow stretching back behind him.

"Shane!" Ryan lowered the phone, eyes wide with terror at what had just happened. "What the fuck happened?"

The taller man half-turned to look at him, seemingly oblivious to the waves of heat rolling from the building. "They deserved it."

They? Ryan swallowed, dreading the answer to his next question. "Shane, are there people in there?" He had to shout to be heard over the roaring flames.

He didn't get a reply. Shane crossed the grass towards him, eyes fixed on his. Ryan didn't back away. He let the taller man place a gentle hand against his face, a thumb brushing his cheek.

"Ryan." He traced his thumb across the shorter man's lips, beginning to hear sirens in the distance. "The entire time I was setting all that up, I had you in mind. I had an image in my head."

Ryan swallowed, looking up at him with wide eyes. "An image?"

"Of you." He kept his voice low, lilting, his eyes watching Ryan's face, studying it. "It kept me awake some nights. Just the thought of the fear, of the shock on your face before you'd go up in flames. Knowing that I'd won."

Ryan swallowed again, hard. He felt ill. He felt feverish, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. "Who's in there?"

"The Board of Directors, Ryan. My employers, essentially." He shrugged, dropping his hand as he saw people beginning to trickle down, to view the ever-building fire. "Not anymore, though."

Ryan stared at him, mouth still open in shock, in disbelief. In horror. At this man, at what he'd done. At what Ryan had narrowly avoided. 

"It's your fault they're dead, little guy." Shane moved to stand behind him, speaking quietly into his ear as the firemen began to rush in, hoses at the ready. "If you hadn't kept pushing me, if you hadn't crossed the line-"

"No." Ryan shook his head fiercely, even as he felt Shane's hand subtly brush past his side to press against his stomach. Holding them together. "No. I'm dreaming. This isn't real."

"It's very real, Ryan. It's the most real life ever gets."

Ryan's eyes felt dry with the heat from the flames. "No. No, this is- This isn't real."

"Shane."

Shane blinked, turning his head to find Sara standing a few feet away, Helen beside her, equal looks of stunned fear on their faces. He slyly took his hand off Ryan, turning to look at them with raised eyebrows.

Sara was still staring at him, her curls waving slightly in the warm air from the fire. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." He looked away, over Ryan's head, at the still-burning office. The section of wall above it was scorched black. "It must've been an unfortunate accident."

He could see it on her face. The tiniest of smiles. Bordering on proud. Proud that someone had finally wiped the Board clean. They'd started the whole game, the whole game of covering footsteps, no matter who they hurt along the way. It was only right that they die at the hands of the game they created. She gave him a small nod, giving Helen a slight push to walk away. Shane went to follow, feeling a hand tight on his arm. Painfully tight.

"Shane, stop." Ryan didn't look afraid anymore. He looked enraged, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on his. "I'm not going to ask how. I'll leave that to the professionals to find out. I'm going to ask you why."

Shane stared at him in silence for a long moment. Nothing but the sound of the firefighters shouting orders at each other, and the crackling of a fire slowly burning out. He could see Steven and Andrew already on the scene, Adam laden with camera equipment, hurrying to keep up with them. He could see the blonde cop, Kelsey, watching in confusion as Helen engaged in murmured conversation with Sara, making it quite obvious that she wasn't just a plain old medical detective. But Ryan still only had eyes for him. 

"Sleep on it." Shane's eyes flickered up and down his face, very aware that he couldn't do what he wanted to do right now. Not in front of the gathered crowd. "I'll call you tomorrow. I'll tell you what I can."

"No." Ryan kept a hold of his arm, pulling him back. "You'll tell me now."

"Ryan."

"Now," repeated the shorter man, clearly not up for being argued with. "Or I swear to God I'll spill everything. Everything. Right now."

"Don't try and act the honorable cop, Bergara." He shrugged his hand off, or tried to, at least. "It's over. It's done. Alright?"

"No, it's not." 

Shane could see people beginning to stare, beginning to notice their little altercation. "My car. Bring your partner."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, understandably very, very wary. "As long as you bring them."

Shane looked at who he was nodding towards; Helen and Sara. "Fine. If you're really that scared."

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?"

Shane smiled dryly. "Look. You're learning."

Ryan moved towards Kelsey, keeping an eye on Shane, making sure he wasn't trying to bolt. The guy was clearly insane. Or maybe he had just been desperate. Whoever had rang him while he was in Ryan's apartment, he'd been very frightened of. And sometimes when you're frightened of something, you'll do anything to get rid of it. Anything. Ryan had even found himself thinking about getting rid of Shane. A stray bullet, an accidental round fired, and he could be rid of him. Forever. But he knew this wasn't true. Shane was a part of his mind now, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. Getting his friends at work to mug the guy had been something he'd never even considered doing, not until he'd met Shane. It was a Shane thing to do. A dirty move, a low blow. A desperate attempt to claw back some sort of control.

"Kelsey, we have to go." He gave a subtle shake of his head as she went to ask why; he could see Andrew and Steven watching from behind their van, probably thinking they were being subtle. "Just follow me. And trust me here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm cersei lannister thank you for all your inspiration and the bomb ass theme (Light of the Seven) that I listened to while writing the end bit
> 
> https://youtu.be/lNroNErjdo0?t=549 (it was this exact bit that made me want to write an explosion scene so)


	9. Too Late To Say Goodbye

It was getting light. The sort of dusky grey that promised a bright day. Apart from the little plume of smoke still visible coming from the hospital, where it had reported that the fire had been put out. Six people dead. What a tragedy. The cause of the fire was due to an unfortunate accident regarding an accumulation of flammable substances, and a faulty sprinkler. The presence of loaded bookshelves didn’t help.

The car was parked up on a hill, overlooking the town. A bit isolated usually, but completely empty due to the time. Ryan stood a safe distance away, Kelsey still confused, but wary. Sara and Helen lingered by the car doors. Shane lounged against the bonnet, arms folded across his chest, the warm breeze gently ruffling his hair. They all watched each other. Waited for each other to speak. To hopefully guide all this in a safe direction. The women all noticed the markings; the bruises, Ryan's split lip, the small cut under Shane's eye, clothing askew, the clear signs of a scuffle that the two men were carrying. They didn't probe. Sara glanced at the guns visible on Ryan and Kelsey’s belts, swallowing.

“So I’m going to assume you did that,” said Ryan into the silence, his eyes fixed on the culprit. “And don’t try to deny it.”

“I won’t.” Shane shrugged, straightening up off the bonnet. “It was me.”

Kelsey nodded slowly, looking entirely bewildered. “Uh, well then you’re going to jail, bro. So-”

“There’s a reason that I drove you all the way up here,” said Shane, arms still folded. “Well actually, there isn’t. I just wanted to bring Ryan, but he insisted we make this a group trip.”

“You just killed six people,” said Kelsey fiercely. “I’m wondering why he even agreed at all.”

He looked away for a long moment, thinking. “I didn’t do it for fun.”

“Why did you do it?” demanded Ryan, stepping forwards. “Why did you decide to blow them to bits, instead of me?”

“Instead of you?” Kelsey blinked. “Wait, what am I missing here?”

Shane ignored her. “Because-”

“Shane, careful,” said Sara from the opposite side of the car. “Just be careful what you tell them.”

“You’re going to tell us everything,” said Ryan determinedly. “Or you’re going to spend a hell of a long time in prison, Madej.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the small smile on the taller man’s face. “Unless you have some plan to weasel your way out of it. Which I wouldn’t put past you.”

Shane shrugged nonchalantly. “Lift up your shirt.”

Ryan froze, eyes widening. “I- No, that’s just-”

“Lift it up, Ryan.” Shane was still smiling, an almost suggestive gesture. “Why don’t you show the rest of them just how well we got to know each other.”

“No, no, that’s bullshit.” Ryan threw a sincere shake of the head at Kelsey, raising a finger towards the taller man. “He’s twisting it. He-”

“Lift up your shirt, Ryan,” she insisted, folding her arms as she stepped back to look at him. “You pregnant?”

He placed a hand over his lower stomach, as if he actually was pregnant, instead of just hiding what he presumed would be a cluster of hickeys left by a certain son of a bitch. He pressed his lips together in a firm line, throwing a glare at Shane.

“Oh, we were pretty close towards the end there, weren’t we?” Shane grinned at him, wandering towards the shorter man. “So I’d suggest you listen to what I say to you, if you want to keep your job.”

Ryan’s hand went for his gun, not quite making it before Kelsey grabbed hold of him, pulling him back. “Fuck you, Shane.”

Shane looked him up and down, a withering gesture. Almost pitying. A wolf deciding whether or not he should rip this poor lamb to pieces right there and then. Because really, he could do what he did every time. Ruin the other person's life, pull out all the stops. But he had a feeling that maybe it wouldn't go so smoothly with Ryan as it had with all the other cops who had poked around too much. Ryan was resilient, without a doubt a match for him. And Shane had never had to make a move so desperate in his life, about anything. Ever. Shane finally looked away, taking a deep breath.

"We were hiding something, yes. We still are hiding it." Shane shared a quick glance with Sara, but he knew this was the only option. "But we'll need your help."

Ryan blinked at this, too stunned to be angry. "Help? You expect me to help you after what you've done?"

"After what _I've_ done?" Shane gave a sharp laugh, not quite amused. "You made me do that, Ryan. You pushed me. You kept pushing me and pushing me no matter what I offered you."

"I was doing my job," replied Ryan heatedly, taking a step forwards, Kelsey edging closer as he did so. "And I've clearly been onto something this whole time. So spit it out."

Shane didn't reply for a long minute, not taking his eyes from Ryan's.

"Spit it out, Shane!" He began listing the items on his fingers, hearing the quietly shocked gasps from Kelsey as he did so. "The CCTV, the blood samples, the autopsy report, all of it was faked. You have Livermore under your thumb, you have every damn medical center for miles at your beck and call. So tell me why!"

"For research!" said Shane sharply.

"What research?"

"Cancer!" He kept his voice relatively quiet, but the anger was still palpable. "Cancer research, you little idiot. How to cure it. It's a fucking global system, and you were going to bring it down right here in sunny California."

"The research on how to cure cancer isn't fucking illegal, Shane. Pull the other one."

"It is when it gets to a certain level." Shane was quiet for a moment, sharing another look with Sara. "We- Okay, first level is just trying to think up how to cure it. Then maybe test it on some cells. Then test it on animals. But- But the only way to make sure it actually works is if you test it on a living person who has cancer." He shrugged helplessly, hands raised. "Sometimes we fuck up! Sometimes it backfires."

Kelsey blinked at this. "So- So that's why Gloria died?! That's fucked up!"

"That's even more reason to put your ass in prison!" Ryan pointed vehemently at him. "That's fucking evil!"

"I know!" It was Sara who spoke this time, moving from the other side of the car to join Shane. "I know, it's- It's easily debatable. But not a lot of people die. They don't. About five a year. Globally!"

"Five a year?" Ryan rolled his eyes, giving a shrug of mock-nonchalance. "Oh, that's fine I guess. It's only five literal lives. That's practically none, right?"

"Compared to how many lives we could save, it _is_ practically none!" said Shane firmly, glaring at him. "You need to look at this from a wider perspective. This is the only way to potentially find a cure. A cure that works. And we need your help to keep it hidden."

Ryan turned away, hands on his hips. He was mad. He was too mad to look at either of the doctors.

"That was the mistake that the others were making," continued Shane, trying to succeed in getting their help without quite begging. Without letting them know how desperate he was for this to work out. "They were keeping the law out of it, and the law kept getting involved. And each time the law got involved, more people would get hurt. More people than necessary. You have to _see_ that."

"Ryan, he has a point." Kelsey spoke quietly, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. It was so tense it felt like stone. "It's hard, but maybe it's the right thing to do."

"No." He shook his head firmly, turning back to glare at Shane. "No. I won't help you."

"Right. Well then, here's what's going to happen." Shane moved forwards, Sara stepping aside to let him do what he needed to do. "I'll label you as an accomplice. The CCTV of you coming to the hospital at all hours would do that, but there's also the CCTV at the Brickwood. Yeah, I know the manager there. You shouldn't have let me pick the place for our first romantic getaway, but there you go. Your first big fuck up." He stepped closer, but Ryan didn't back away. Not even an inch. "I'll drag you through as many courts as I need to. I'll rip you apart, Ryan. You won't even be able to consider continuing to be a cop when I'm done with you. And while you're caught up in the amount of lawsuits I'll be ramming down your throat, I'll take care of your personal life too. Don't think that I won't." He suddenly pretended to look thoughtful, hands on his hips. "You have two dogs at home, right? Puppies. But dogs can die at any time, can't-"

Ryan immediately lashed out, landing a solid right hook across the taller man's face. Shane stumbled sideways to one knee, hands scraping against the dirt as he landed, pretty certain he blacked out for a second. He could hear Sara and Kelsey jumping to hold Ryan back. Shane swallowed the bitter blood in his mouth, staying down, raising his eyes to narrow at Ryan, who glared right back.

"You prick." Ryan watched the other man push himself back upright, wanting nothing more than to hit him again. "You just don't give a shit about anyone else at all, do you?"

"Oh, I give a shit about a lot of people," said Shane icily, cupping the side of his face. "Just not about you."

"Ryan, hold it for a second." Kelsey stepped in front of him, a human barricade. "It- It's one of those things, maybe. If it works, if they find a cure, how many millions of lives could be saved, man? Think about it."

Ryan was quiet for a few minutes, rubbing a hand across his mouth pensively. His eyes looked at the ground. At the smoke still rising from the hospital in the distance. At the sky. At nothing. When he spoke, his words were reluctant.

"What would you want us to do?"

Shane stopped himself from closing his eyes, from leaning against the car in relief. "I'm not sure yet. This is new ground. I've never worked _with_ the law before."

"Yeah, no shit." Ryan scowled at the ground, almost too angry to speak. "And you still won't be working with the law. Because this isn't lawful."

Shane didn't reply. He could feel Sara and Helen watching him, waiting to see how he'd respond to whatever Ryan was gearing himself up to say.

"And if this is going to work out," continued Ryan, pointing from Shane to himself. "You'll need to follow some rules. My rules."

The taller man raised an eyebrow at this. "Your rules, hm?"

"Yeah. Mine." Ryan could see Kelsey nodding along to his words as he spoke, out of the corner of his eye. "If anything crops up, if anything goes wrong in your twisted 'research', you come to me or Kelsey. You don't go to anyone else. And you do _not_ go to the superintendent. You aren't working with the law. You're working with me and Kelsey. Okay?" He took a step forwards, Shane taking a quiet breath, eyes flickering to Ryan's fists. "And if this ever gets out, I'll go against you. In court. I'll say you blackmailed us. I'll-"

"That's for another time, Bergara," said the taller man, icy cold. "A time that hopefully won't come."

"You better hope it doesn't."

"Okay, alright." Kelsey stepped forwards, a hand on her partner's shoulder, her other hand out towards Shane. "Relax here. We have the basics done. We'll cover for you this time." 

"The rest, we can deal with as it comes," said Sara quietly, sharing a look with Shane. "Let's leave it for now, maybe?"

"Yeah." Shane turned his eyes back to Ryan's, exhaling sharply. "Let's leave it for now."

He stuck out a hand, seeing Ryan flinch slightly at the movement. Ryan glared at the hand, then at the owner of the hand, then back to the hand. Shane raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly. A challenge. _Come on, then. Make your deal with the Devil_. Hesitating for a moment, Ryan finally took hold of the offered hand, giving it a hard shake. Shane gritted his teeth as he promptly wrenched his hand away, surprised that all his fingers had come back intact.

The drive back to the town was understandably tense. No one spoke. Shane drove broodingly. Ryan glowered out the window. Kelsey, Helen, and Sara shared awkward smiles upon awkward eye contact. The car pulled into the parking lot of the cafe across the street from the still-smoking hospital. Shane killed the engine, a sign for everyone to scramble, which they promptly did.

Ryan was just about to shut the door behind him when Shane's hand took hold of the top of the door, closing it with a bit more force than necessary. Sara and Helen hurried away at the sound. Kelsey lingered in front of the cafe, hugging herself despite the fact it was actually quite a warm morning. Ryan lifted his gaze to glare up at Shane, jaw set. Shane was looking back at him like he was a disgusting spoon of medicine that he just had to take. 

"This is going to require cooperation, Ryan." The words left a nasty taste on his tongue. "Frequent cooperation."

"Yeah. I know." Ryan went to step around him. "But you started this, so-"

"Ah ah ah." Shane placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing the shorter man back against the car. His other hand remained on the roof beside Ryan's head. "C'mon, now. Don't start throwing blame around."

Ryan was quiet for a moment, keeping his gaze lowered, his hands raised slightly either side of him. "What are you doing."

"I'm not doing anything. But I'm thinking." Shane leaned in, whispering the words right into the shorter man's ear. "I'm thinking how unfortunate it was that we never got to finish what we started."

Ryan swallowed. "I think that's the most fortunate thing to come out of this."

"Oh, do you?" A hand slipped around Ryan's waist, pulling him forwards as Shane pressed against him. "Because I'm not quite satisfied."

He closed his eyes, feeling the breath against his mouth. "Sorry about it."

"Mm." Shane's eyes were fixed on the shorter man's mouth, his grip on the roof of the car tightening almost as much as his grip on Ryan. "I love it when you act like you're not interested."

"I'm _not_ interested."

"Oh, baby." Shane straightened up, giving the shorter man's cheek a playful yet patronizing pinch. Ryan turned his head away, a sharp move. "Aw. Don't be like that."

"Stop it." Ryan kept his head turned aside, beginning to feel just a tiny bit panicked at what he'd gotten himself into. "Move."

Shane stepped aside, making a mocking sweep with his arm. "Of course."

Ryan rubbed at his cheek where Shane had touched him, aware that he was blushing. _Don't be a fucking idiot, Ryan_. _Don't get more mixed up in this than you need to be_.

"Well? What was that?" Kelsey sounded concerned, and rightly so. "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Ryan glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Shane's eyes for a split second as the taller man got back into his car. "Nothing. It wasn't important."

* * *

The office had been redone. Ryan closed the door behind him as he stepped into it, glancing around. It was much fancier than the last one; lots of dark wood, a bankers lamp on the desk, a high-backed leather chair. Whatever promotion Shane had earned himself with six lives, it must've been good. His office was no longer on the first floor, as well. It was on the third. His deal with Ryan must've granted him some security in his position. The thought made Ryan feel ill.

He moved further into the dark room, the lamp being the only source of light. Shane lounged back in a chair in the corner, legs crossed in a figure four. He was almost invisible, dressed in a dark navy shirt, his tousled hair silhouetted in the low lamplight. One arm was draped along the arm of the chair, his other elbow resting on the other arm. His hand held a whiskey tumbler with dangerous nonchalance, his fingers just about gripping the thin glass of the rim. Ryan wandered further into the room, unbuttoning his sleeves, taking his time in rolling them up to his elbows. He dropped the fixed report of the office fire on the desk. They didn’t take their eyes off each other. Not for a second.

“So you're late. Of course.” The words came from Shane’s mouth in a smooth drawl, the end of the last word slipping to a hiss. “Your punctuation isn't the best. No matter how many months pass.”

Ryan didn’t reply, watching the other man take a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking in the glass. “I'm busy. I still have a job to do.”

“Mm.” Shane swallowed his drink, tilting his head back, watching Ryan from under heavy-lidded eyes. “I heard you've found love.”

“Oh. Did you.” Ryan had started seeing someone, a woman he'd met in work. He just hadn't intended for Shane to find out so soon. Or at all. "Keeping tabs on me, are you?"

“I’m a very possessive man. You know that.” Shane paused for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “What’s mine is mine.”

Ryan stood directly in his line of sight, remaining a few meters away as he loosened his tie around his neck. “I hope you’re not referring to me.”

Shane took another sip of his drink, the liquid burning down his throat. He barely even noticed. “So you’re all happy-happy with her now, are you?”

“Seems like it.”

“Am I not enough for you.” The sentence was a blatant threat. Shane kept his eyes on Ryan as he turned his head aside, taking another sip of his drink.  _Go on. Say no_.

Ryan arched a dark eyebrow, looking the other man up and down. He attempted to do so disdainfully. The small smile that spread across Shane’s face showed that he hadn’t quite succeeded.

“You treat me like shit, Shane Madej. And you don't own me.” He should just leave. Before he let this go down the usual route. "I don't want to work with you. I never did."

“Ah, but you have to.” He smiled, drink halfway to his mouth. “Because I clapped my hands and told you to dance. So now you gotta dance.” He let the glass linger just in front of his smirk. “If you’re just going with this girl to piss me off, then you’ve won, Ryan. I’m pissed off.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention at all.” A tiny bit of a lie. Ryan’s eyes glittered, whether from the dim lamplight or from anger, it wasn’t exactly clear. “So I’d advise that you stop trying to start something here.”

“Or what?” Shane completed his sip, a leisurely movement, as if he was simply having a drink in a friend’s apartment. “What’ll you do, hm? Kill me?”

“People die all the time.” Ryan took a few casual steps forward, seeing the blatant hunger in the other man’s eyes as he looked him over. “Accidents. Tragedies. Very frequent.”

“Aw. You’re threatening me.” Shane sat forwards, spreading his legs, elbows resting on his knees. His drink still dangled from his fingers. “C'mon. Threaten me harder. Give me some specifics.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly, teeth gritted in irritation. “You don’t seem to be taking me very seriously.”

“Oh, I’m not. Which is pretty daft on my part.” Shane placed the drink aside, his eyes staying fixed on Ryan’s body, roaming free. “You can pack a punch. But really, it’s too hot.”

“Too hot for what?”

“Too hot to make me scared.” Shane sat back as Ryan came to a halt right in front of him, looking down at him like he was an inconvenient piece of trash on the ground. “Seeing you get mad turns me on, Bergara. Painfully so.”

Ryan let his hand softly cup the other man’s face, seeing Shane’s lips part at the touch, his chest rise as he took a deep breath. “And what if I kicked your ass, hm? Right here?”

Shane's fingers drummed out quick rhythms on either of the chair’s arms, his eyes still locked on Ryan's. “I suppose I’d get very turned on. And get very angry.”

Ryan watched his finger as it made its journey from Shane's chin, down his throat, lightly pushing aside his shirt collar to reveal the collarbone below. “Why angry?”

Shane's smile was the barest pull at the corner of his mouth, his face otherwise deathly serious. “Because I can’t have you.”

“And you want me.”

“Oh, I want you.” Shane took another deep breath, shifting slightly in his seat as Ryan's fingers traveled along his collarbones, made prominent by his inhale. “God, I want you bad.”

“How bad.”

Shane's fingers continued tapping quietly, agitatedly; they had to distract themselves. “Bad enough… that if you gave the word…” His eyes drifted to Ryan's mouth, his own lips pressing together as he swallowed. “I’d do whatever you want me to do.”

Ryan casually moved so that he was standing over one of Shane's legs, leaning down with a hand on the back of the chair. Shane refused to move forwards, gaze lowered to Ryan's parted mouth. And as he watched, Ryan picked up his drink from the small table beside them, downing it. Shane’s eyes were glued to Ryan's as he did this, following the movement of the whiskey as Ryan swallowed it. The glass hit back on the table with a dull clink, but neither even spared it a glance.

“Well, Ryan.” Shane sat more upright in his chair, leaning to one side, a hand rubbing distractedly across his mouth. A businessman studying an interesting proposal. “Fuck.”

Ryan smiled at this, feeling somewhat powerful in the current situation. “Sorry. I’ve got a girlfriend.” He straightened up, heading back across the room. “I'll let myself out.”

“Ryan.” Shane linked his hands behind his head, legs still crossed. “Come here.”

Ryan came to a halt, a hand on the door handle. _Just go. Go!_

Shane pushed himself to his feet as Ryan looked back over his shoulder at him, the door remaining closed. "I said come here."

Ryan dropped his hand from the door, reluctantly turning to face him directly. "Why? You're coming to me anyway."

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply at the feeling of Shane's hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing his skin. Shane could see the internal clash of want and need in the shorter man's frown, in his shaky exhale, in the way he let Shane tilt his head back, tracing his thumb along his lips. 

"Take off your clothes," said Shane quietly, still studying the shorter man's face like he was a puzzle just waiting to be figured out. "Now."

Ryan swallowed hard, keeping his eyes shut as he started unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t react to the sound of the door locking but to turn his head slightly, to indicate that he did indeed know. He felt the heat of Shane’s body as the taller man moved back to stand behind him. Ryan’s shirt collar brushed back, Shane’s fingers holding it. The shorter man's eyes fluttered slightly as he inhaled deeply, the feeling of Shane’s mouth pressing against the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder almost unbearable. He tilted his head aside as another light kiss brushed his skin, raising a hand to run back through the taller man’s thick hair. Shane slowly made his way further up his neck, hands gripping Ryan’s waist firmly as the fingers tightened in his hair.

Ryan suddenly turned, his arms wrapping around Shane’s neck as the taller man swiftly drove him back against the wall, their mouths inches apart, breath mingling. Ryan moved forwards, Shane tilting his chin up ever so slightly, lips just out of reach. He could feel Ryan’s irritated sigh against his neck.

“Such a tease,” muttered Shane, looking down at the shorter man from under heavy lids as he felt one of Ryan’s hands move from around his neck, sliding down to his chest, slowly taking a fistful of his shirt in his fingers. “Aren’t you?”

He closed his eyes, swallowing, as he felt Ryan’s lips on his neck. _God fucking damnit_. His breaths were heavy as the movement against his throat grew harder, deeper, his heavy breathing swiftly turned to straight-up panting. He pressed a hand against the wall beside Ryan's head, pushing more firmly against him, a low sigh escaping directly into Ryan's ear as he felt the shorter man’s tongue brushing across his skin. He bit down hard on his lip to stop any more moans coming forth. He didn’t quite succeed.

“Fuck.” The word pushed out through gritted teeth as Ryan's mouth lingered on the small dip between his collar bones, sending what felt like a literal shockwave through his body. “Fuck you.”

His hand moved from the wall to take hold of the shorter man’s jaw, pushing his head back to the right angle, Ryan's eyes opening slightly at the movement. His hand shot up to place a finger on Shane’s parted lips, holding him away. Shane readjusted his stance, his body flush against the shorter man’s.

“I'm going,” said Ryan quietly, wondering if he’d be able to keep up the act of not caring. Because fuck, did he want this. “Now.”

Shane opened his eyes, meeting Ryan’s. And he looked very, very angry. “Right.”

“Mm.” Ryan swallowed, taking his finger from the taller man’s lips. “Goodnight.”

Shane didn’t move. Not for a few minutes. He turned all of a sudden, as if quite literally tearing himself away from the situation. He paused by his desk, one hand on the hard surface. _Don't look, Madej. Don’t break._ He threw a sidelong glance back over his shoulder, seeing Ryan still leaning against the wall, his shirt unbuttoned, down past his chest. His eyes were fixed on Shane, challenging. Daring him to just let him go.  _Don’t do it, Madej_.

The tentative deal had held up surprisingly well so far. It had reached a plateau of cooperation, despite the personal tug-of-war between the two pinnacles of the deal itself. But neither could back out, not without facing the potentially devastating consequences at the hands of the other. Loss of employment, loss of respect, who knew how many court cases. Loss of sanity was going to occur regardless. 

"I suppose I should get going," said Ryan absent-mindedly, straightening up off the wall. "Important date. With someone who's not you."

Before he even knew what he was doing, Shane was on him, pulling him into a fierce kiss. His hands pushed under Ryan's shirt, pulling it open the rest of the way with the force of the movement, his fingers digging into his back, holding their bodies flush together. Their mouths worked against each other hungrily, bordering on violently, Shane's hands pulling at the other man's belt, Ryan's hands guiding him. 

"You're not going anywhere," muttered Shane, feeling Ryan's panted breaths against his mouth as he maneuvered him back towards the nearest flat surface; the desk. "Ever."

Ryan didn't reply, his tongue preoccupied with Shane's, but that didn't mean he didn't feel the surge of panic at the words. At how hopeless his situation was. Each time Ryan tried to turn away, tried to distance himself from everything that had happened, everything that might yet happen, Shane would just reel him back in again. Effortless. He was a master at it. And Shane didn't have a choice, anyway; he couldn't simply let Ryan walk around freely. No, he had to keep an eye on him. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3yzunhryHM (inspo pretty much for the whole fic, but if I'd said that earlier it would've spoiled the ending lmao)


End file.
